


Blood is Thicker

by Mustardlover16



Series: Nightwing and Flamebird [4]
Category: Batman - Fandom, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bat Family, Bludhaven Police Department, Blüdhaven, Bonding, Canon Related, Dick and Dami feels, Dick and Star, Feelings, Feels, Other, Plot and Fluff, also some plot, happy endings, multi-chapter, unashamed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-02-26 15:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13238766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mustardlover16/pseuds/Mustardlover16
Summary: Dick Grayson and adoptive brother, Damian Wayne hit a snag in their partnership as Nightwing and Flamebird when Dick proposes marriage to his long time girlfriend, Starfire. But, just as things start to look up, a dangerous criminal from the boy’s past threatens to ruin their latest chance at a somewhat (dys)functional family. Rated for Language. Batfam cameos.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, readers! Just as a reminder, this is the fourth installment in my Nightwing and Flamebird series. Strap in for a wild ride. Everything is prewritted and will be posted every few days.

Dick hadn't been this nervous in a long time.

This wasn't day-before-the-Big-Test jitters, as he had experienced a little under a year ago, when he shook off fried nerves and began his final exam in the police academy.

This wasn't shit-I-have-to-tell-Bats-I'm-in-over-my-head anxiety.

This was pretty much raging hysteria. This was first-performance-in-the-big-top panic. This was a mind numbing, hyperventilation inducing, deer-in-the-headlights-of-a-fucking-18-wheeler frenzy.

So Nightwing did what he always did when he was stressed. He found the highest building in the city- The Marcus Hotel- and launched himself off it. Without a second thought. Without a plan. Without a care. He soared off the rooftop with the strictest convictions that he would land safely. And that the fall would clear his head of his problems. Or really, his one problem. His one really big problem.

The wind whipped at Nightwing's face, hair lashing about in a turbulent storm of jet-black locks. The air rushed past his ears with all the force of a 747 engine turbine. The ground and the people and the cars grew closer with each passing second. This. This is what would cause normal people to panic.

Wally had been kind enough to drill into him that they, "Were _not_ perfectly normal, thank you very much," years ago. No. This rush, this height and speed, this near perfect tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach. This was freedom. Even as the lines of the street and cracks of the pavement came into pristine detail, Dick grinned.

He spotted a flagpole, sticking horizontally out of the side of one of the older brick buildings, about 5 stories from the cement below. Dick aimed for that, grinning like a madman- he'd seen enough in his line of work to know what _that_ looked like. When he reached his target, he latched on, thankful for the extra padding and grip that his gloves provided, and swung himself around it, feet over head, once, twice, three times to dispel much of the downward velocity. From there it was the simple matter of a front tuck and a bit of a roll into the nearby alley and Nightwing was once again standing firmly on solid ground.

And once again aware of his Big Bad problem. Right. Gravity had once again set in, which meant that so had reality. Not for the first time, Grayson reflected that gravity was such a pain in his gloriously sculpted ass.

Nightwing heard a click over his com link, and instinctively he touched the side of his mask, opening the channel. "Flamebird?"

"Nightwing. There's a disturbance along the boardwalk. A group of 6 lowlifes. Apparently they have nothing better to do than snatch tourist's belongings. Of course, I can handle it, but 2 have split off from the rest and from the lack of radio chatter, it's clear you have nothing better to do." Damian Wayne's typical obstinace elicited a smirk from Nightwing.

"Copy. Last seen?"

"Headed down the alley off Fisher's Lane. I'll take the four, if you think you can handle two all on your own," Flamebird challenged, cocky smile evident in the tone of his voice.

"You're on, kid." Nightwing was only blocks from the scene. Twisting the end of one of his escrimas, he released the grappling feature, and swung to the location Damian had directed him.

The former Robin had been right. These guys were by no means professional criminals. Their steps were too loud and their breathing too heavy. They were disorganized, loud and pitifully out of shape. These idiots were a bunch of skeeze bags looking for an easy couple of bucks. Probably hoping to scrounge enough to score some weekend dope.

Nightwing rolled his eyes, but cracked his neck anyway, leaping into the ally from the fire escape above with his usual grace and charm. "Hey, buddy. That purse?" Nightwing indicated the cream colored handbag clutched in the meaty grasp of the heavier, pockmarked man. "It's so last season." With careless ease, Nightwing snatched the bag away, knocking the man off balance with a swift kick to the back of his chubby knee.

Nightwing saw flight signs in the flicker of the skinnier thug's eyes. "Mmm. Uh-uh. I wouldn't do that that, if I were you." Nightwing advised, pointing in the direction of the painfully skinny man's gaze. With a comically big gulp, the guy bolted, kicking up gravel in his pitiful haste to escape. Dick sighed, one hand on his hip even as the other reached for an escrima stick. "Why do you guys always run?" He asked the thug who still lay at his feet. Without glancing away from the already incapacitated would-be thief on the ground, Nightwing flung his weapon at the runaway's feet, tripping him just as he reached the mouth of the alley.

Nightwing jogged to detain the foolish second man, zip tying his hands behind his back and dragging him over to his friend. "What makes you guys think you can outrun a masked vigilante who consistently deals with super villains. Where's the logic in that?"

"I don't know, Nightwing. I think they may be onto something. You look about as non-threatening as you do ridiculous," Damian said in lieu of a greeting, dragging behind him three of the fellow pickpockets.

"Flamebird, so nice of you to join. I see you were able to detain _almost all_ of the other suspects. What happened?"

"-tt-. The slippery idiot somehow managed to elude capture. He must have a little more sense than the rest of his compatriots."

"Oh, of course." Nightwing jeered in his best quipping tone. Quips were good. Quips meant he could avoid the nerve wracking conversation he needed to have with his younger brother and fellow crime fighter for a few more minutes.

Flamebird made some foul sounding comment under his breath as he went to summon the police. Within a few minutes, a couple of patrolmen Dick had gone to academy with had custody of both the stolen property and the nitwits who had attempted to lift it.

Not too much later, Dick switched off his quieter-than-normal coms unit, determined to place his undivided attention on the unpleasant task in front of him. Damian was munching contentedly on a slice of Mediterranean pizza, legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop they had chosen as their makeshift dinner destination. Dick jiggled his leg unconsciously, trying to get up the nerve to dive in.

Suddenly, the Boy Wonder turned his scrutinizing eyes to the Batfamily's resident Boy in Blue, Nightwing. "What is your problem? What are you not saying?"

Nightwing turned unsurprised, reluctant eyes on his younger brother. Trained by The Bat, indeed. His powers of observation were, evidently, still in tip top shape. When Nightwing didn't answer, Damian pushed further, whispering, " _Grayson_?"

That decided Dick. As protocol dictated, Damian rarely-if ever- used anything other than code names while in the field. The fact that he had done so told Grayson that Damian was more concerned about him than he wanted to let on.

"Well, D… I'm not sure how to say this, but…" Dick huffed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I've been wanting to tell you for a while but I didn't want to-"

"Stop beating around the bush, Ri-Nightwing. Spit it out."

Dick released another deep breath. "Damian, I… I want to marry Starfire and I was wondering if, well… If you'd be my best man."

Apparently that was not what Damian was expecting to hear, because the two sat in a stunned silence, as the gears began to visibly turn in Damain's head.

Then, without any prompting, without a single word Flamebird stood up. The only thing he left Nightwing with was a withering look and a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Rationally, Dick knew this wasn't the best time. Damian and he had just started to settle into their routine as Nightwing and Flamebird a few months ago. Dick had, just one month ago, been given a clean bill of health after his run in (pun intended) with Talia Al Ghul's sword. Bruce had, not two weeks ago, dropped the news that he and Selina Kyle were going to be married.

Dick knew what kind of effect this had had on his youngest brother. He had been there for the emotional turmoil it had caused, and had- he thought- helped Damian work through most of that. But apparently, the wounds were still too fresh.

And of course, Dick knew this would be disruptive to Damian's life, to his carefully constructed world view. It was bad timing, he knew.

But it was _always_ bad timing. There was always a bomb to disable or a villain to catch or an apocalypse to stop or a brother to save. There was always a team member's life in the balance, a victim that needed rescuing or a police report that needed filing. There was always something. And if mentoring Damian had taught him anything, it was that it was important to tell the people you loved that you loved them, while you had the chance to say it. It was important to take a stand on the things you believed in- the things that brought one hope and joy and life- because they weren't always going to be there.

Nightwing sighed, and began his long trudge back to his apartment. He sent a quick text to Star, letting her know it would probably be best if she stayed in San Francisco tonight- the news had not gone over well. See, it wasn't Starfire who he had to convince about the wedding. It was Damian.

With a grunt, Dick clicked a few keys on his phone, dialing in another bat-favor. One he'd likely regret. "Hey, Dicky-bird. To what do I owe this displeasure?" Jason's voice answered on the last possible ring.


	2. Chapter 2

There were no words. No words to describe what Damian was trying to process. Well, maybe there were. But none of them were permissible for polite conversation. Which was good, because Damian had been flinging them into the cold silent night air ever since he had stormed out on Dick.

Damian paced along a long stretch of scaffolding near the docks. He was on the top layer, which was hardly ever used for loading and unloading, as most reputable cargo ships went to the west end of the harbor. The only shipments that came in through these ports were of ill repute and usually carried illegal weapons or drugs. On a good day, they carried both and Nightwing and Flamebird were there to receive them when they dropped anchor.

Even Damian's recently acquired habit of seeking higher ground when stressed was pissing him off. It was a trait he had picked up soon after he had begun spending time with Grayson. It was in the acrobat's instinct to seek the comfort of height and fresh air. Forget Grayson and his irritating habits. Forget him and his quick witted tongue, his all-too-trusting nature and his knack for shouldering the weight of the world wearing an easy smile.

Forget him and his curvy, alien princess girlfriend. Resentment boiled up inside Damian, burning away at his rationality like a dead tree in a forest fire. She had no right to come in and change their lives.

Damian may have been deep in thought, but he was still his father's son. He sensed an approach from behind, and whirled to face whatever threat had the misfortune to challenge The Son of The Bat in a bad mood.

"Easy, killer." Jason called, steps echoing purposefully on the wooden planks of the scaffolding's walkway. He had his hands raised in a mollifying gesture, but the glint of his eyes and the knife strapped to his side kept Damian alert.

"Go away, Todd. Aren't you supposed to be putting bullet holes in lowlifes and sullying the name of vigilante's everywhere?" Damian spat, not in the mood for his predecessor's games.

"Yeah, Yeah, there's no rest for the wicked. Yada, Yada. Can we get past the part where you and I fling cliches and worn out insults at each other? I'm not in the mood. And from the look of your sorry face, neither are you."

Damian only narrowed his eyes at Jason, who shrugged. "Hey, have it your way, Batmite. My life is a whole lot easier without you in it." Jason turned on his heel, striding back toward the shaky ladder which lead down the the next lowest level. "All of our lives would be easier, in fact, if you just didn't exist at all." Jason tossed over his shoulder with his signature I-flirt-with-danger-daily smirk. Damian ground his teeth together, launching himself at the older man. Like _hell_ Todd would get away with a remark like that.

Unfortunately, this is the exact reaction that Jason had expected- nay, intentionally induced- because with careless precision, he spun, grabbed a hold of Damian's outstretched wrist and yanked him to the uneven wooden planks. "Lesson one, kiddo, don't let the other guy tap into your insecurities. It leaves you vulnerable."

"Don't call me kiddo." Damian hissed, shoving Jason roughly.

Jason willingly backed up, leaning against one of the metal poles which served as a support structure. "Why? Cuz that's what Dick calls you and you're still throwing a tantrum because he made you mad?"

"Go back to your bottom feeding, Todd. I'm sure there are still some weak little gang bangers you haven't crippled for life yet." There was no way he was letting the failed second Robin give him some sort of twisted brotherly advice. Or any advice, for that matter. He hadn't lasted 6 months as Robin. What the hell did he know?

"I'm getting pretty fed up with your shit, Damian, and if you don't screw your head on straight, Dick will too. Guy has the patience of a saint most of the time but we all have our limits."

Damian said nothing, but he didn't move away, either, which Jason took as a signal to continue on. What a spoiled brat. "Look Damian. I'm going to be straight with you. Dick called me. Told me about the little _domestic_ you had. Wanted to see if I could get through to you-God knows why, we both know you're as stubborn as your bullheaded father." Again, there was no response. Jason shrugged. If that's the way the kid wanted it, fine.

"Kid, as the failed replacement of the progeny Boy Wonder, and the black sheep in a long line of traumatized boys turned Robin, I get feeling insecure. I get that it sucks to feel like someone is taking your place. I even understand feeling less important than others to the one guy you're trying to impress the most. Been there, done that. We all have. Because, like it or not, we've all been mentored by Bruce." Jason sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. Damian's resolve was breaking, he could see. Already, his crossed arms had dropped listlessly to his side, his scowl had slowly been replaced with an almost pleading look.

"The thing is, Dick isn't Bruce. I know I haven't always been his biggest fan but he's a solid guy. And, for some unknowable reason, he loves you. Loves you in the kind of way that Bruce never has been able to show the rest of us."

"He-he's just letting her intrude into our lives, into our home. Without even consulting me." Damian said, clenching one fist weakly.

"You inherited your father's people skills, I see." Todd observed stoically.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that the both of you know how to read one thing: fear. The rest of the human psyche might as well be written in Japanese for all the literacy you two show."

"I speak Japanese fluently." Damian retorted pompously.

"Fucking _of course_ you do. You know what I mean, though. Grayson asking you to be his best man- _that_ was him asking your permission. That was him, checking to make sure you were alright. He hasn't even asked Starfire yet, because he was waiting to see how you would take it."

"I… Regardless, the idiot thinks he can build some sort of idyllic family, as if that sort of thing lasts in the real world. It's ridiculous." Damian's brave attempt at sounding fierce and sardonic came out sounding terrified instead.

"Look kid. You didn't have a fair shake at a family. You have a crazy assassin for a mother and a grandfather and you have an emotionally stunted father who takes out his aggression by dressing as a bat and fighting super villains with stupid themes. And now the one stable guy in your life- the one man who treated you like a kid but also as an equal- he's dropped a bomb in your lap, right? That's some terrifying shit. He was the one guy you could always count on, and now he's all set on making someone else his number one, right? Out with the old, in with the new. Like father like son, huh? Once the old model is used up, trade it in for another model. Yeah, I can see how that would send a kid like you into a tailspin.

"But Dick is still the same guy you partnered with. He's still that dorky-ass acrobat with the retarded jokes and the bleeding heart. He couldn't leave behind a sinking boat full of psychotic killers, Damian. He sure as hell couldn't abandon the closest thing he has to a son."

"...A son?"

"Yeah, sorry to burst your bubble, Wayne, but you're going to have to find your drama elsewhere. Because Grayson would chop off his left arm if he thought it would make you happy. And he'd deny himself a shot at true love and married bliss if he thought it would hurt you in anyway." Jason sighed, nearing the end of his spiel. He really hadn't meant to get that soft. He and Grayson had a lot of issues in the past, but Jason was rather fond of Starfire from their days of crime fighting with Roy. And besides, he and Grayson had been on mostly amicable terms for a while. Grayson was the only other member of the batfamily who really tried to understand Jason's side of the whole failed-Robin-Lazarus-pit-rage thing.

"You really think she's good for him?" Damian questioned quietly.

"As good for him as he is for you."

"...Very well. I will…" Damian looked down at his feet, unsure of what to do next. Though Jason had made very good points, and cleared away most of the irrational fears that had plagued his mind, Damian was unsure of how to proceed from here. How was he to face Grayson after storming off like a child? How could he face the man who had given him so much after so cruelly denying him the one thing he'd ever asked of Damian?

"He's not the grudge holding type, kid. Just go talk to him. All he wants to do is talk." Damn. Damian was not doing a very good job of keeping his emotions internalized, and Jason was reading him like a book.

"I will take what you have said under advisement, Todd." Damian replied tonelessly, straightening his back and angling his head back to its normal confident upward tilt.

"Wow. Can you say that again? I think I have a tape recorder somewhere for momentous occasions like these." Jason sarcastically rummaged through a few of his pockets, but only managed to produce a set of brass knuckles, three magazine cartridges and a particularly nasty looking stun gun. "Must be in my other pair of pants," Jason shrugged in mock embarrassment, shoving the small arsenal back into his many pockets.

"You should leave the comedy to Richard. He's much better at it than you." Damian replied dryly.

"Dick is at the 3rd precinct, at his officiation ceremony. Maybe you should go tell him, instead of me," Jason suggested with a friendly swat at the younger boy's shoulder.

"Perhaps I will. And perhaps you should get back to Gotham. I'd hate for any of those weak little gang bangers to think you've gone soft."

Jason and Damian parted ways without another word, Jason headed back to his motorcycle and to Gotham, and Damian headed toward a change of clothes and the 3rd Police Precinct of Bludhaven.

Twelve and a half minutes later, Damian strode into the roll call room of Dick's now official precinct. Wearing a black sweater and dark blue jeans, Damian wove skillfully in between groups of boisterous young cops and older, more seasoned Commanding officers and Field Training Officers. Dick was not hard to find, with his ebony hair and his lamp-bright eyes and his loud, confident laugh. The holo-disguised but still very eye catching Starfire at his side made spotting him across a crowded room even easier.

Damian could hear Dick introducing Starfire to his Captain, using their manufactured backstory with great ease. "Captain, this is my girlfriend, Kory Anders. Kory, this is Captain Crowley." The captain's back was to Damian, so he wasn't able to make out his reply. But he heard Dick when he answered, "Yes, high school sweethearts. First day I saw her I knew I wouldn't find anyone better."

Damian would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't heard the utter sincerity with which Dick delivered those words. They may not have been the full truth, but the love and adoration behind them was all too obvious.

"Damian!" Starfire-or, rather, Kory, caught sight of him first. Damian could see immediately that Dick had kept her well informed of the night's previous events. Her bright green eyes flashed with a kind of sympathy and concern he had seen several times before in her gaze. It was a look markedly similar to ones Grayson often shot Damian when he was worried. Dick's eyes mirrored Damian's own sense of fear as they peaked around the captain.

Dick angled his head down, bending slightly at the waist to be eye level with his younger brother. "Hey, bud, glad you could make it. Was Jay able to help you with all your homework?" Dick used a simple code to transmit the question he couldn't ask aloud in front of so many people.

"Jay...was able to clear much of it up for me. Although, I wouldn't mind a second opinion, if you think you have time?" Damian answered honestly. Dick nodded, looking a little relieved. He allowed a small smile to replace the concerned downturn of his lips.

"Sure kiddo. We have the pinning ceremony to do real quick, but I'd love to look over it with you."

Damian nodded in understanding, just as the captain called for the probationary officers to stand at the front, facing the podium. The guests, family members, and other fully commissioned officers made room for the younger batch of officers. Damian mainly ignored the speech of the Captain, instead calling to mind what Dick had mentioned about this ceremony. A year ago today, Dick and the other newly commissioned police officers had passed their academy training and begun work at one of the 26 precincts in Bludhaven. During that year, they had received additional on the job training, and had been monitored during that period by a Field Training officer. As probationary officers, they were nearly fully fledged police officers, with the understanding that, if they failed to perform the duties to the standards expected, they would be terminated at the end of their year long probation and would not have a job as a certified justice of the peace.

Dick had, according to his Field Training Officer, passed his probationary period with flying colors, and was expected to rise through the ranks of the 3rd precinct with speed and ease. This ceremony was the recognition of all those probationary officers that would be kept on by the Bludhaven Police Department. Damian felt a nudge at his arm as Kory elbowed him gently, eyes pointing to where Grayson's burley FTO was pinning the precinct numbers onto the collar of Grayson's impeccably pressed police officer shirt. Grayson was officially a full fledged officer of the third precinct of the Bludhaven Police Department. Damian had had his doubts about Grayson becoming a cop, but he couldn't help the pride that swelled in his chest at the sight of a beaming Richard John Grayson fully dressed in his navy blue police dress suit, worn only for graduations, promotions and police funerals.

—

An hour later, Starfire was lounging on the couch inside Dick's apartment, heels abandoned on the soft carpet, legs tucked up beneath her. Dick similarly tossed his snow white dress gloves onto the glass coffee table, leaning down to press his lips to her temple, before continuing to the back porch, where the youngest member of the Wayne family sat, waiting for him.

"Hey, Dami." Grayson began awkwardly, smile clumsy as he slid the glass door shut. Grayson, awkward and clumsy. Damian smiled at the thought. Before now, he wouldn't have thought it possible. Perhaps this whole marriage thing meant more to him than he had let Damian see.

"Richard, although I initially found your use of Todd insulting, I have since become aware that some of his points weren't entirely off base." Damian conceded in as big a voice as he could. It was still pitifully mute compared to his typical authoritative tone.

"Damian, I know that this- all of this- is a lot to handle. And I get it if it feels really sudden. If you aren't ready to talk about it… That's okay. However you feel, it's okay." Dick reached a hand out, placing it on Damian's small, strong shoulder.

Damian hung his head, suddenly ashamed of his earlier behavior. Why did Dick always have to be so good about these things? He shook his head and made eye contact for the first time since his tantrum. "I was being childish. Starfire… She makes you happy. You deserve to be happy. And I would," Damian lowered his eyes still unused to openly displaying emotion, "I would be loath to stop you from being happy."

Damian heard Dick sniff hard and he looked up to receive a somewhat watery smiles from his older brother. "C'mere, kid." Dick said, arms open. Damian stood up from his seat and took the few steps forward into his brother's hug. Dick wrapped his strong arms around the younger boy's shoulders, leaving Damian the option to hug back or not. No matter what, Dick was always thinking about Damian- what he needed, what he wanted, what made him comfortable- even in something so small and insignificant as a hug. He had been dating Starfire for years now… why should a little thing like a ring make a difference? Damian smiled slightly, leaning into the hug and wrapping one arm loosely around Grayson's back.

Dick pulled back first, placing a hand very briefly on the side of Damian's face. "Mind if I go tell Star?"

Damian attempted to make his face look grudging but he wasn't sure how successful he was. "Go ahead. Hopeless romantic."

Dick laughed at that, rising up to enter the high rise apartment. Dick left the door a few inches ajar, knowing Damian would probably remain outside for a few moments. "You're going to be my wife!" Dick announced happily, striding over to Starfire.

Starfire squealed in delight, launching herself at Dick. "Oh, Richard. This is wonderful!" She wound her arms around his neck, tears springing to her eyes.

Dick was grinning from ear to ear now, wrapping his own arms around her small waist. "You're going to be my wife." He whispered giddily into her ear.

She pulled back just enough to see his face, hands framing his it gently. "You are going to be my husband." Damian turned away when their lips met, finally at ease about the situation. It would be an adjustment, to be sure, but Damian couldn't deny that the thought of living in a happy, whole, household filled him with a peace he never knew he was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s for all of you who were requesting more Jason Todd, my friends! Let it be known that I deliver. Also, as a side note, I would like to mention that Damian’s comment to Jason that “you should leave the comedy to Richard, he’s better at it.” Is a references to the time Ra’s Al Ghul said it to Tim Drake. I hade to do it!
> 
> Thats all for now! Please send me some feed back! Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick was hazily aware that someone was patting his chest. He buried his face as far into his pillow as he could without actually moving. Moving was so much work. But the patting continued and it was soon followed by a similarly groggy voice telling him to get up. The voice was soft and distinctly feminine.   
“What?” Dick groaned, rolling over to wrap his arm around Starfire, who had decided to spend the night.   
“Richard. Your phone. It is buzzing. I must insist you pick it up, because I would like to sleep some more.” Starfire murmured against his neck.   
“My-” Dick glanced at his night stand. His phone was right where it always was. “My….? Oh, shit!” Dick launched himself off the bed, bucking the once-again-sleeping Starfire who had unfortunately decided to use his shoulder as a pillow.   
Dick grabbed up his work phone which had ended up on Starfire’s nightstand in all their excitement last night. “Officer Grayson, how can I-”  
“Shut up and listen, Dick.” It was one of his friends from the academy, officer Elise Svoboda. She was 5 foot nothing but her sharp mind and loud mouth more than made up for it. She was feisty, had a bottomless stomach and could put any sailor to shame in a cursing contest. “Dick. You won’t believe what I just heard. A couple of the detectives from the one-five were talking about a couple of new hires that went off the deep end during their initiation ceremony. Of course the brass is trying to keep it under wraps, but shit, Dick. Wallowitz and Finnigan both pulled guns during their pinning. What the hell?”  
“They-” Dick glanced at the bed. Starfire was up now, and looking at him with concern. “They what now? Slow down and give me the details, El.”  
“Wallowitz was over at the 23rd and Finnigan was at the 15th, Dick. From what they can tell, neither had contact with each other after graduation. But for some reason, they both decided to _draw_ on their FTOs during their pinnings. Happened almost simultaneously. Both were detained, obviously. Only one injury-Wallowitz got off a shot before they could disarm him, but the guy doesn’t look likely.”  
“What the hell. They both seemed like normal guys to me. I didn’t have much personal interactions, but they seemed like upstanding guys, you know?” Dick muttered, mind racing. What the hell?  
He heard Elise sigh on the other end of the line, followed by a string of colorful curses. “I know, Dick. They were both dragged hollering to holding cells. One of the detectives said that Finnigan sounded madder than a hatter, whatever the fuck that means.”  
“Shit. If you hear anything else, let me know. I’m gonna do a little digging.” Dick said, mind going in a thousand different directions at once.   
“A little soon to be shooting for your detective’s badge, don’tcha think, Grayson?” Elise teased half heartedly.  
“What, you don’t want in if I hear anything?”  
“You think you’re so damn clever, don’t you?”  
“Hmm. Talk at you later, El.”  
“Watch your 6, Grayson.”  
Dick hung up the line, sinking to the bed. Arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and seconds later a warm body was pressed up against his back. “Richard.” Her hands rubbed small circles at his already pounding temples. “What was that about?”  
Dick gave her the short version, leaving out the fact that he had-albeit limited- personal connections to both of the officers. He need not unduly worry her. “Gah, I need to look into this.”   
“The department has asked you to take the case?”  
“No… I’m thinking this might be more in Nightwing’s wheelhouse.” Dick pressed his cheek to hers, which was hovering just over his shoulder.   
“Let me know if you need any assistance.”  
“Actually… I think I could.”  
——  
A half an hour later, the two were dressed and in the kitchen. They had come up with a short term game plan and made a few calls to set some things up. Starfire had called the Titans, and informed them that Red Robin would be flying in from Gotham and would be put temporarily in charge until Starfire could return. Dick, too had called in a few favors.  
A buzz at the elevator door let him know that one of his favors was calling in. Dick sent the elevator down to receive his guests, then turned to address Starfire. “The timing isn’t the best, what with all of last night’s drama, but I always intended for the boys to meet.”  
“Now or ever, yes?” Starfire encouraged with a bright smile.  
“Close, Star. Now or _never_.” The elevator doors slid open silently, revealing the passengers within. A perfectly put together Clark Kent and his son, Jon strode off of the elevator and into Dick’s apartment.   
“Dick! Good to see you, kid. Nice place you got.” Clark glanced out the window-wall which led to their small balcony, and, in spite of blinds being closed, commented, “Great view, too.” He winked at Dick, pushing his glasses back up his nose. Dick returned the gesture with a beaming smile of his own.   
“Thanks for coming, Clark.” The two shared a quick hug. He and Superman had been close ever since Dick was a kid. Bruce being the Bat and all, Dick had been surrounded by powerful and inspiring heroes like Superman pretty much daily. For whatever reason, however, Superman and Dick had taken a shine to each other and when Dick had decided to strike it out on his own, it was the mythology of Krypton that Dick had drawn on for inspiration for Nightwing. Superman and he had spent many a night in the rooftops of Gotham swapping stories as the Bat and the Bird (usually when Bruce was too injured to don the cowl and needed to keep up appearances in the underworld).  
Needless to say, he and Clark had always felt comfortable calling on one another for help. Today was no exception. Luckily for both Dick and Damian, Clark and Lois’s sweet kid seemed to be a chip off the old block. “Hey Jon. What’s up, bud?” Dick asked jovially.   
“Dad said you might have a little job for me!” Jon answered eagerly.  
Dick laughed and patted the excitable 10 year old on the shoulder. “Yeah, something like that.”  
Starfire beckoned Jon into the kitchen and began digging through the fridge for a couple of sodas.  
“How are things, Dick? You sounded pretty high strung on the phone.”  
“Things are going… as well as can be expected. The move to Bludhaven was a big deal. For me and Damian. But we’re settling in.” Dick smiled to combat the images of the past few months events. They had been strenuous, to put in mildly.  
“Yeah, I’ve heard. Flamebird, huh?” Clark chortled good naturedly.  
Dick chuckled, “Yeah, touchy subject. But the mythology, the message. It suits what he was going for, you know?” Dick recalled how Damian had talked with such passion about the Kryptonian goddess who acted as a force for change in their world. Clark nodded, instantly understanding Dick’s train of thought. “Anyway, last night kind of threw a kink in things but I think he’s getting used to the idea of family.”  
Clark smiled his thousand watt smile. It was this smile (in addition to his prominent jaw line and baby blues) which helped him snag interviews for the Daily Planet that other reporters failed to get (minus Lois, of course.) “Glad to hear it.” Clark responded genuinely. He had seen the kid grow up, change and suffer more than most. If anyone deserved a little bit of married bliss, it was Dick. “With Bruce and Selina tying the knot, it sounds like everything is falling into place in the bat-family, huh?”  
“Don’t jinx it, Clark.” Dick laughed. “Anyway, I always thought that Damian could use a friend his age. I think Jon could be a good influence on him.” Dick raised his eyebrow and Clark pursed his lips knowingly. Though not as well oiled as Dick and Bruce, the two had developed a language of their own.   
“Well, thanks for saying so. I’ll be by to pick Jon up at, say, 8 o’clock tonight?”   
“Yeah, we could make that work. See you then.”  
Clark clapped Dick soundly on the shoulder. “See you, Dick,” he assured, clicking the call elevator button and turning to Jon who was now sitting at the counter on a bar stool. “Be good, Jon. Listen to what Dick and Starfire tell you. And-”  
“Be careful. Don’t be afraid to call for help. Yeah, Dad. I’ve heard it all before.”  
Dick threw back his head in a silent guffaw. This kid. Damian was going to love this kid. You know, _after_ he got over himself. Dick grinned to himself, despite all the plans circling in his head. This meeting was going to be interesting.   
Dick entered Damian’s room, surprised that he hadn’t already awoken with all the fuss outside. Last night must have been harder on him than he had let on. “Damian! Wake up, you have a guest.” Dick said, patting the sleeping boy firmly on the shoulder. Damian shrugged the older man off, groaning and turning away as he did so. “Damian. Guest. Up. Now.” Grayson persisted kindly, prodding the boy’s not-ticklish-at-all side.   
“What guest?” Damian growled but sat up anyway, knowing Grayson would not leave him alone until he did.   
“Oh, just a kid of one of my good friends. Come on, come meet him.” Dick smiled encouragingly, nodding toward the door which led from Damian’s bedroom into the living room.  
“Grayson I am fed up with your attempts to find me ‘age appropriate playmates’. I am not a child. I do not play. Your last attempt went miserably.”  
“Hey, you could have at least tried with the Teen Titans, kid. Star said you’d probably even like some of them if you got to know them.”  
“They are immature and poorly trained.” Damian refused to budge on the subject once more. His older brother had been attempting for some months to get him to interact with other kids his age but Damian had refused to cooperate. He was happy the way things were. He had been living with his brother for almost 6 months now. He liked Bludhaven, liked their partnership, liked the work they did. Why change a good thing? What was it Babs always said? “If it ain't broke, don’t fix it.” Damian suspected she got that from her father. Good ol’ country boy charm aside, the phrase did hold weight. Things were going smoothly for the first time in his life. Why risk ruining it?  
Besides, he had just accepted a big change once he had come to terms with the two upcoming marriages. There was only so much ridiculousness that Damian could handle.   
Nevertheless, his bull-headed brother continued to try and set up these ill-conceited play dates in an attempt to introduce Damian to people his age who he could “hang out with.” The problem was that Damian didn’t want to hang out with them. Unlike he, they were soft and childish and were full of churlish pranks and simple humor. He could only tolerate so much of this behavior, and he got it enough at home from Dick. But with Dick, he had a reason to put up with it. Dick was his partner and his brother. Dick was also the closest thing he had to real, loving family-he had family but the loving part seemed to be too much to manage for most of his relatives- and he and Damian had been through alot together. Besides, when Grayson was cracking jokes and pulling stupid stunts, it didn't seem quite so annoying.  
Even so, Damian continued to play along. Mainly because a month ago Richard Grayson had taken a sword to the chest from Damian’s mother, Talia Al Ghul, to protect Damian. The least he could do was field a few offers of friendship for his concerned older brother. No matter how irritating it was.   
Damian threw off his sheets with a huff and stomped over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of comfortable jeans and a red, long sleeved t shirt. “I will be out in a minute, if you insist.”  
“I do insist.” Dick said with a happy grin, heading toward the door. When the door shut once more, Damian shucked off his pajamas and dressed himself, taking careful time to gel his hair. This mystery guest could wait a few minutes until Damian was presentable.   
Damian emerged several minutes later to find Dick in the kitchen, making polite conversation with a boy while making sandwiches. The boy was young, though how young, Damian could not tell- the lanky, black-haired boy was sitting on one of the bar stools, back to Damian. He was dressed in ratty jeans, red high top sneakers and a faded blue t-shirt. His hair was shaggy and fell around his ears in wispy, soft curls.   
Dick looked up from the bread he was spreading with mustard. “Hey, Damian. Glad you decided to make an appearance.” Dick joked with a wink. “The young prince has decided to grace us with his presence,” Dick teased, directing the joke toward the young boy in the blue shirt. The boy laughed. Damian gritted his teeth and turned deliberately, walking back toward his room. “Alright, alright, Damian. I’m done. No more jokes.” Dick relented, putting his hands up in a conceding gesture.   
Damian rolled his eyes and turned again, once more facing Dick and the as of yet unknown young boy. The kid had swirled his seat so that he was facing Damian. He had bright blue eyes- eyes much younger than his own. Not just physically but emotionally. This was a well loved, well taken care of kid. Damian hated him already.   
“I suppose I might as well get this over with. My name is Damian Wayne. My mother is the woman who waged war on Bludhaven and my father is…well he’s the infamous Bruce Wayne. And you are?”  
“I’m Jon.” The young boy said jovially, sticking his hand out toward Damian. When Damian showed no sign of returning the shake, Jon dropped his hand and turned to Dick. Dick nodded and smiled encouragingly. “My parents are reporters in Metropolis. Clark Kent and Lois Lane.”  
“Kent.” Damian spat, whirling around to his older brother. “This is the Boy Scout’s blood?”  
“I told you Jon was the son of a good friend. Superman and I are good friends.” Dick smiled somewhat smugly. He knew Damian would be infuriated by the choice. He also knew that if he could get Damian to put up with Jon long enough, he’d find that he actually liked Jon. They would be good friends, if Dick could get Damian to spend enough time with the young boy. Jon would also be a good influence on Damian. The boy was practically an angel. His demon-spawn, rash younger brother could use a dose of that.   
“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to spend time with-” Damian began, only to be interrupted.   
“Damian, I don’t want to hear it.” His brother had on the stern face. It was one he rarely wore but one that commanded respect when he did. It wasn’t a quite batglare but it was close enough.   
“So, Flamebird, huh?” Jon asked, an innocent looking curiosity crossing his face. “Didn’t you know that was a goddess’s name when you picked it?”  
Damian would have launched himself at the young half-kryptonian boy if Dick hadn’t stopped him despite being doubled over in a fit laughter.  
Soon the two young boys were glaring at each other from opposite sides of the table as they ate the sandwiches Dick had made them for lunch. Jon was-in Damian’s oh so humble opinion- gnawing on a ham sandwich much the way a barbarian would. Damian chewed his vegetable wrap in irritation.   
Starfire arrived in the living room soon after, having taken a quick shower. She brought with her the faint smell of sun baked flowers and jasmine shampoo and the tinkle of laughter prompted by Dick’s bear hug. _Was this how it was going to be all the time, now?_ Damian wondered. Because if so, he might have to tell Dick he changed his mind about the wedding thing.   
Starfire sat down as Dick began, “Okay, guys. I have a mission for you”  
Both perked up at this, forgetting their sandwiches and leaning in toward the older hero. “A mission? Finally,” Damian huffed in pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a quick run down of some of the cop lingo:  
> One five- 15th precinct  
> Draw- draw their weapons  
> FTO- Field training officer  
>  Likely- likely to die   
> Watch your 6- watch your back
> 
> So what do you guys think so far? Have any theories? Concerns? Let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

Damian and Jon sat in on the roof of a rather depressing apartment building, hiding in the shadow of an ancient sounding air conditioner unit. "You're sure this is Wallowitz's apartment building?" Jon questioned Flamebird. The young half kryptonian had changed shirts and was now proudly wearing a blue long sleeve sporting his father's famous 'S' and a short red cape clipped to the shoulders.

 _A sloppy costume for an even sloppier disguise_ , Damian thought, rolling his eyes for about the hundredth time since beginning this wild goose chase. They had already been by Finnigan's place but had found no sign of anything unusual.

The two had discreetly entered through the young police officer's window. Or, it would have been discrete if they hadn't been bickering the whole time. Damian had insisted on leading the mission and had arrogantly instructed every detail of their mission, quite literally to the step. Jon hadn't been allowed to raise an arm without Flamebird griping at him.

Finnigan's rental house had been disappointingly lacking in evidence, in contrast to the signs and yellow tape labeling it an active crime scene. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, from his typically untidy bedroom to his sorely lacking fridge. The house was exactly what could have been expected from a single man living alone.

So now they were on the roof of Wolowitz's house, probably facing strike two.  _Mission indeed. What a joke._

Damian was just about to complain again when Super-brat interrupted his brooding. "Hey, I hear something!"

"Excuse me?" Flamebird asked in his most condescending voice.

"He was apartment 3B, right? There are a couple detectives in his apartment. They're talking…" Jon was staring intently at the floor, brows pulled together in concentration. "...they haven't found any signs of forced entry… nothing seems to be missing or out of place… his girlfriend-his girlfriend said he had a weird cut on his forearm… couldn't remember how he got it...she thought he might have gotten it in a fight but he either didn't seem to concerned about it or-"

"Or he was lying to her." Damian interrupted. Maybe having Super-boy along would have some perks. Super-hearing was certainly coming in handy...

"I mean, I guess it's possible… But she says he seemed really sincere. And Di-"

"Don't use real names in the field, idiot. Do you want to release our identities to the world?"

"You're so full of-' Jon stopped himself, apparently refraining from the curse he obviously wanted to throw. "Whatever. You-know-blue said he seemed like a pretty decent guy, said he was trustworthy and honest when they were in the academy together."

Damian blew a disdainful breath between his teeth. "Yes. My adoptive brother is very well meaning but he tends to be an idealist. And much too trusting," Damian shot Superboy a withering look.

"Drop the attitude, sidekick." Jon shot back. "I'm just here to help out. My dad and your brother are friends, and dad said that Nightwing was a good friend to have. I'm just here helping out." Jon's sparkling blue eyes were defiant yet sincere.

Damian gritted his teeth but said nothing. Jon refused to be the only one trying in this partnership. Damian would have to meet him halfway; so Jon stayed silent, watching for signs of relent in Flamebird's impassive face.

"Very well." Damian conceded grudgingly. "I supposed there is nothing more to do here, unless…" Flamebird turned his head to his true blue compatriot.

Jon cocked his head to the side, listening again. "No. They're packing up now. Talking about… mmm! Lunch… Meatball subs… would be nice."

"We just ate lunch. Besides, we have other work to do." Flamebird led the way to the access tunnel they had used to sneak here. The two boys trudged through the complex network of thankfully unused sewer systems, Damian mapping their way to their next stop. Jon was chattering on about some nonsensical game he and his father used to play when they lived in Kansas. Flamebird wasn't even  _half_  listening.

"We're here." Damian said, glowing holoscreen illuminating the firey red bird emblazoned on his costume.

"Right, great! Er… where is here, again?"

"We're at the 23rd precinct. Or, rather, below it. According to these police records-'

"How'd you get access to police records?"

"According to these records-" Damian forged ahead, ignoring Jon's more than valid question, "Wallowitz is still being held here. He hasn't yet been transferred to central booking which is out of typical protocol."

"And you know this because….?"

"My brother  _does_  work for the police department, Super-whelp." That effectively shut the talkative young boy up, much to Damian's pleasure. "I suspect they're giving him special treatment, because he's a cop. It's dangerous to be a cop in jail or prison- they're not likely to find many friends."

"Okay… So now that I know the  _where_ , mind letting me in on the  _why the heck_?" Jon sounded flustered and irritated, which only served to widen Flamebird's smug smile.

"Obviously," Damian began pompously, "Because we're going to pay Wallowitz a visit. You brought your civilian clothes like I told you to, yes?"

"Uh… yeah, but-"

"Change out, Super-boy. We're going undercover."

—

The boys entered through the front door of the precinct which felt just a  _little_  wrong to Damian, who was used to breaking through skylights and crawling through ventilation ducts.

Damian straightened his suit jacket, buttoning the topmost button and adjusting the collar of his white button up shirt. Drawing on his Wayne ancestry, Damian thrust his shoulders back, put on his most confident smirk and strolled in as he had seen his father do hundreds of times. He could do this. It was in his blood, after all.

Jon watched closely, studying Damian's mannerisms. For a second, he thought about trying to imitate, but decided against that. It wasn't his style. Like Damian, he decided he had better play to his strengths.

Damian sauntered up to the reception counter which had three booths and was screened in by what he could only assume was bullet proof glass. A bored looking female officer clicked the button to the microphone. "How can I help you?"

"Yes, my brother is a police officer in the 3rd precinct. He said he had to stop here quickly and that I should meet him here. He's going to take me and my friend on a ride along after lunch."

"How exciting. Take a seat. I'm sure he'll be here shortly." She said in the most unenthused way possible.

"Pardon me, but he said he'd be a few minutes late. He told me that one of the officers here might be kind enough to give us a tour while we wait."

"Not likely kid. You see those doors?" She pointed to the large metal doors which led from the reception area into the heart of the police station. "Unless you gotta shield, you ain't going through those doors."

Damian huffed but kept his face composed and patient. He couldn't let his Al Ghul blood take over. This was where Bruce Wayne's easy charm would have come in handy. Or Dick's flirtatious nature. He'd have to have his brother show him that sometime.

"I understand you're terribly busy doing very important work," Damian said, carefully avoiding eye contact with the cell phone which was brightly displaying Candy Crush Soda Saga. "But my friend Jon and I were really excited to see the department. And I'm sure my brother would really appreciate it."

"That's dandy. Take a seat."

"Listen. My brother is Officer Richard John Grayson, badge number 381940.  _Dick Grayson_  of Gotham City, former ward of the Billionaire Bruce Wayne. My brother is a good cop; and Bruce, my father… he's a good man. A good man that donates a lot of money to fund for retired and injured cops. You couldn't be persuaded to just show us a couple of rooms? Just… Until my brother gets here?"

The woman- Officer Smith- looked suspiciously at Damian but typed Grayson's badge number into her system. Apparently something in his brother's file (Damian's bet was on Dick's irritatingly perfect picture which featured his grinning pearly whites and his stupid sparkly blue eyes) convinced the woman to give in to Damian's request because the next thing Damian knew, she was escorting both boys through "those doors" droning in a bored voice about the bullpen.

Damian spared a quick glance out of the corner of his eye at Jon who was grinning from ear to ear. The younger flashed the quickest of thumbs up, nodding in approval. The officer led them through the bullpen, past the offices of commanding officers and by the small kitchen which backed up to the in-house gym and weight training room. Finally she brought them into the holding room. "This is where we hold suspects until they can be transferred to the county jail. In emergencies it can function as a very small jail, but we tend to avoid that kind of thing."

Jon, playing curious young boy asked, "Do you have any bad guys in there now?" Pitching his voice just a little higher than normal and flashing his enormous blue eyes at her innocently.

"Uh…" She smiled for the first time that day. "Yeah, we have one bad guy in there."

"Can we see?" Jon hopped up and down, and made an attempt to look through the window.

"Uh…."

"Please? Or, could we at least talk to the jail guy? I wanted to ask a question about what happens if you have to, like, get sent to jail. You know, like, permanently?" Jon tilted his head to the side slightly and Damian had to resist two competing urges; to gag and grin. Damian would never admit it, but the kid had  _some_  talent.

"Sure. But only for a minute." Officer Smith relented, smoothing back her shiney brown hair which was pulled back into a severe bun.

John rushed over to the officer at the desk, who was in charge of watching the inmate. Damian strolled a little slower, taking a careful look at the cells. The cell at the very end of the aisle seemed to be the only one occupied. A file rested in a plastic holder which hung along the wall besides the cell.  _That_  was what Damian needed to get his hands on. Damian glanced over to Jon. He was bombarding the officer with a round of increasingly ridiculous questions. The officer acting as their tour guide was chatting casually with a coworker right outside the doors. Damian would have to be fast and stealthy. Thankfully, those were his specialties.

Damian jogged silently to the door, swiftly pulling the file from its container. Without hesitation, Damian grabbed at the folder, threw it open and began taking pictures of each page and photo. He didn't take much time to study each one. There would be plenty of time for that later. Damian quickly replaced the file and turned when he heard officer Smith call, "Hey! Kid, get away from there."

Damian's shoulders shot up and he knew he had to play his cards right, otherwise he, Jon and probably Grayson would be in a world of trouble. Damian scampered over to Jon, tugging on his shirt and whispered loud enough for the officers to hear, "Dude! I got to see the bad guy- it was so cool!" Damian gave his best sheepish glance at officer Smith and amended, "Sorry…"

She rolled her eyes and motioned to the door but did not seem all too concerned.

By the time she had escorted them back to the reception area, Grayson was standing there, in full uniform, smiling. Damian decided he had better put one finishing touch, just to smooth everything over. He ran to his brother, grinning madly. And though wildly out of character, Grayson didn't miss a beat and he held out his arms to Damian. "He-ey, kiddo! Did you have a good time?"

Damian hugged Dick around the waist tightly, pulling away to answer, "Yeah, it was so cool, Dick! I can't believe you get to see this stuff everyday."

Dick smiled at officer Smith with a grin that said, 'kids. What are you gonna do?' Her only reply was a deep blush and a rather self conscious tug at a single strand of loose hair. Grayson extended a hand to her and shook her hand, adding an extra dose of charm and flirtation as he said, "Thanks for everything, Officer Smith. I really appreciate you taking care of my little brother and his friend while I was out. Work-you know how it can be…" She nodded and giggled, still grasping his hand. "Anyway," Dick smiled widely, "I hope we get to work together sometime…" He released her hand with a wink and looked down at the two boys. "Alright guys, let's go get some grub, huh?"

—

Starfire and Dick sat on the couch later than night, shoulders pressed against one another but focus aimed at the mound of paperwork in front of them. Clark had arrived at 8 as promised and offered to take the boys for ice cream before he and Jon headed back to Metropolis. Dick had gratefully accepted.

Dick tried to concentrate on the words on the page in front of him, but found himself reading the same sentence for the fifth time, still drawing no understanding from it.  _Okay_. That was a sign to step back and take a rest. Dick tossed the file onto the coffee table which was similarly piled with files, paperwork, evidence photos and witness testimonies along with the names of 3 other officers from his academy class who had, just today, committed similarly bizarre and violent acts. It was maddening and frustrating and horribly depressing.  _What in the hell was going on?_

Dick rested his head on Starfire's shoulder. "Ugh, Star. If I read one more file tonight, my head might implode."

He felt her long, slender fingers in his hair, tugging and massaging lightly at his scalp. It felt so good he had to suppress a moan. "Perhaps a break is in order then, my love. You have been working very hard."

Dick nuzzled closer to her neck, breathing in the flowery scent of her hair. "Mm. No harder than usual."

"Which means nothing." She chided quietly. "You always work too hard, Richard. You run yourself ragged, putting everything you are into your work." Dick raised his head up, ready to protest but she pressed his head back to where it had previously been pillowed. "Do not get in arms, Dick, I am not critiquing you. It is a quality that I admire in you. You would not be  _you_  if you didn't put your every effort into the work that is important to you." Her fingers left his hair and patted at his knee which had migrated to rest on top of one of hers. "It is who you are, I know. But it does not mean I cannot worry. After all," she tilted her head at an almost painful angle, intent on making eye contact. "That is what a future wife ought to do, yes?"

"How'd you get to be so smart?" He jibed.

"Certainly not from you, if that is what you are getting at." She teased back, elbowing him gently in the ribs.

"Mm. I'd argue if I had the energy to care right now." Dick promised, closing his eyes and sliding his leg across her lap, hugging at her rib cage in a ridiculously tight cuddle.

He could feel her smile against the top of his scalp as she whispered, "Sleep, Dick. I will wait up for Damian."

Dick lifted his head weakly, studying the disaster zone that was his living room. "I should take care of this…"

"Take care of yourself, for once. I will make sure this is all cleaned up. Though it has been some time since I was on a team with you, your meticulous filing system is still burned into my brain."

Dick searched for a witty response but came up empty handed. He couldn't fight his sleepiness, let alone his overprotective, superpowered, alien girlfriend.

—-

Dick woke up in his bed. He resisted the urge to smile as he remembered the countless times he had awoken just like this- in bed despite not having fallen asleep there. Star and he had a joking competition called "Who Carried Who More", and though years had gone by since the game had officially started, he was pretty sure they were tied. One of the hazards of their job included being so tired that one was unable to make it to bed, so the couple had ample opportunities for said game. Dick could still distinctly remember Beast Boy asking him, "Does it intimidate you that you have a girlfriend who could toss you across a football field without batting an eye?" Dick had responded honestly. "Actually," He had said, "I think it's kind of hot."

Dick let the memory fade as he tried to gain some semblance of reality. He couldn't be sure how long it had been since he had fallen asleep but he could guess by the dimmed living room lights, drawn curtains, and pajama clad Starfire than it had been at least a couple of hours. He took a couple of seconds to study her. She was sitting up in bed, a magazine propped up against her knees which were pulled up close to her chest. Her ridiculously long, wavy hair was piled in a massive messy bun on top of her head and her brows pulled together close in an adorable look of concentration.

Her eyes intently scanned whatever it was she was reading, and though her face did not betray it, Dick could tell something was bugging her. Dick snatched the highlighter she had been holding out of her hand and she shot a reserved but nervous glance at him.

"What's the matter, Star?" Dick queried, capping the marker and tossing it over her and onto her bedside table with precision.

"I-" she began, only to be interrupted immediately.

"Ah, none of that, Beautiful. I think we're past the point where one of us can say 'Nothing's wrong' and have the other  _actually_  believe it." He brushed the back of his knuckles against her bare arm.

She sighed but nodded. "The wedding… I want it, more than anything, I  _want_  it, Richard. But I just… I have so many unanswered questions. So many matters that must be addressed."

Dick nodded, knowing Starfire. They had talked about getting married before, but hadn't gone into the weeds too much. "Did I ever tell you that you worry too much?"

She smiled sweetly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Only every time I have told you that I was worried."

Dick pushed himself up, knowing the conversation needed to be had. She wouldn't sleep if they didn't at least address some of her concerns. "Alright, you're right. Let's talk about this. What's your biggest concern, Star? If we can get past the biggest one, everything after that will feel like a walk in the park, right?"

"That sounds logical." She leaned over and kissed his cheek, a silent thank you.

"Alright, hit me, baby." Dick threw out playfully.

She scrunched her nose at him lovingly, before beginning. "Dick Grayson. Nightwing. Kory Anders. Starfire. Who is marrying who? Dick and Kory? Nightwing and Starfire? Or some other combination?" She wove her fingers together, twisting them in her nervousness. "If Dick marries Kory I will have to be almost constantly disguised. If Starfire marries Nightwing, I will need to move here, but what will I do? Kory will need an excuse to move."

Well, shit. No wonder she wasn't sleeping. He stayed silent for a moment, allowing his mind to navigate all the possibilities. After a silent couple of minutes Dick answered, "Dick and Kory, I think. You and I have attended plenty of public events over the years as the two, been caught by paparazzi. And you've been working on your degree in social work, right? There's plenty of that kind of work In Blud. Starfire can continue to lead the Teen Titans in San Francisco until a suitable leader can be found and trained, which will probably be at least six months, if not more. Boom tubes will make that easier."

Starfire pursed her lips, considering. "And Starfire? She would eventually take up crime fighting with Nightwing?"

"Only if she wanted to. We'd have to ease Star in, make sure her arrival and the arrival of Kory Anders don't overlap too obviously, just to be on the safe side. Part of that would be covered by the whole Titans-leader-search thing. "

"That… That could work." She smiled and Dick watched a shroud of uncertainty shed off of her. "And my disguise… I can live with that."

"We've got your holo rings, for work as Kory. But you shouldn't have to hide all the time, Star. I'll look into having these windows changed out for something a little less see through. I'm tired of having to close the blinds every single time I want to do some Nightwing research, anyway."

There was still a tinge of doubt in the corners of her eyes. Not for long, if Dick had anything to say about it.

"Okay, what else?" He encouraged.

She shrugged, waging an internal battle to decide their next topic. Dick saw the moment she decided, because he saw her eyes change shade. Instead of their normal lime green, they darkened into a cloudier, forest green. Not exactly a good sign. "On Tameran marriages are huge spectacles. Weddings are rare and almost solely done for diplomatic reasons, never for love. The weddings are not for the bride and groom. They are for the public. They are huge, extravagant. That…" She gritted her teeth against the acidic taste in the back of her throat. "That is not what I want."

Dick's heart clenched. As with most heroes, her family history was twisted and painful. Her mother had been the victim of such a wedding, married to the brutal Grand Ruler of Tameran. He was unloving, cruel and abusive and Starfire- the middle child- had received much of his abuse. Starfire too, had nearly been forced into an arranged marriage, to save her planet and her people. Marriage only meant something to her because she had seen and heard of the kind of marriages Grayson's own parents had had- one based on love, trust, and mutual respect

"So we go small. Family and friends only. A couple of vows and a dinner, after." Dick soothed, dropping his voice lower and twining his fingers with hers.

"Vows and dinner." She repeated to herself, thinking. "Perhaps… perhaps some dancing would not be unwelcome." She murmured quietly.

Dick laughed dragging her toward his chest. "All the dancing you want, Star."

As they always did, her arms found their way around his shoulders and before either of them knew what had happened, they were lying back against the pillows, locked in an impossibly tight embrace, lips moving together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of things happened in this chapter so let me know if you're not tracking. I had to throw little Jon in here because my sister and I are big fans of the Supersons comic. He's adorable! Anyway, I'd love to hear feedback so be sure to leave a comment.


	5. Chapter 5

When Dick woke up, Starfire was gone. He slapped his alarm off and pulled on the pair of uniform tactical pants hanging over the footboard of his bed. He could smell something awesome coming from the kitchen and could hear what he thought were the sounds of… Starfire and Damian? Having...fun?

Starfire's tinkling laughter floated toward him through the bedroom door which was slightly cracked open. And though Damian wasn't laughing, Dick could hear suppressed amusement in his voice.

Dick peeked through the door, curious. What he saw almost made Dick pinch himself, wondering if he was still asleep. Damian (standing on tiptoes) was pushing around a pan of veggies, sautéing them. Starfire stood close behind him, watching in rapt attention. Every once in a while Damian would make a comment like, "You must always keep the vegetables moving. Cook them until they're limp." Starfire was nodding enthusiastically, smiling. After another minute, Damian took the frying pan off the burner and turned his attention to another pan. "This part is very delicate, so watch closely." Starfire stood a step back, as if to take everything in. With an elegant (and very showy) flick of the wrist, Damian flipped an omelette high in the air, then caught it in the pan just as skillfully.

Starfire bounced on her toes, clapping. "Magnificent! You must show me that trick!"

Damian smiled proudly, motioning to Starfire that she should add more egg to the now empty pan. "Let's stick to trying to get a scorch free omelet, first." Damian said in the most encouraging voice Dick had ever heard from the boy. Dick rested his head briefly against the door frame, grinning like an idiot. _Holy crap. This thing just might work._

Hoping not to interrupt the scene in the kitchen, Grayson pulled on a T-shirt and wandered causally into the living room. "Hey, guys. You make any for me?"

"Yes! And look, it is only slightly burned. Damian has been giving me some very helpful tips!" Starfire gushed.

"Wow, he must have. This tastes great!" Dick shot a thumbs up at Damian even as he dodged the projectile kitchen towel Starfire had thrown for his taunt.

"Also, I believe Damian has crossed another question off the list."

"Has he finished my police reports and polished the silver as well?" Dick turned to Damian, winking.

"No," Starfire chided without much conviction. "Damian suggested we get married at Titans Tower. After all, it is where we got to know each other. It's a place that shares meaning for both of us."

Dick felt his eyebrows shoot skyward. He never would have thought of that, but it was actually a _really_ good idea. "Wow. That would be really cool, actually. That's awesome. Thanks, bud!" Dick sent his most genuine smile in Damian's direction. "Really, Damian. Thank you for thinking of that."

Damian averted his eyes, still unused to such outward praise. "It was nothing. Just a passing thought," he protested quietly, as if Dick _actually_ believed Damian ever had a 'passing thought' in his life. Dick held Damian's gaze, deep, emerald meeting bright cerulean. He tried to convey what Damian wouldn't allow him to say aloud, tried to tell him that he was proud of him, thankful for him.

Damian's eyes flashed once, and Dick thought he might just have gotten the message. "You're going to be late for work if you don't head out soon." Damian proclaimed quietly.

"You're right." Dick said, standing. He ruffled Damian's hair once, then strode to the elevator where he met with Starfire, who was holding his bag out helpfully. "See you guys later." He promised, kissing Star on the cheek before entering the elevator.

——

The day was going just like any other. He was riding with Svoboda, which were always his favorite days. Not only was Svoboda a sharp, dependable partner, she was also just entertaining to spend time with.

The two had stopped to do traffic duty on a fender bender, taken a report about a stolen bike, and dropped off a lost dog off with it's relieved family.

"How about lunch, partner?" Svoboda asked around 1:30 that afternoon.

Dick shrugged, amenable. "Yeah, all right. Burritos sound good?"

"It's like you read my mind, Grayson." She grinned and pulled a 180 in the middle of the street, ignoring the tires which screeched in protest.

"Jeez, Svoboda. They warn you about stray bullets in the academy. They should have warned us about maniac patrol partners," Dick yelped.

A few minutes later, Dick was checking out at Burritos Locos, a small chain favored by Blud locals. Elise was in the car, watching the in-car computer for calls.

Dick grabbed the to-go sack, dropping change in the tip jar and thanking the woman rung him up. Dick opened the passenger side door, juggling the to-go sack and two water bottles. "Hey. They didn't have steak so I got you chicken instead. Hope you don't-" Dick didn't even have time to finish his sentence before noticing that something was off. Elise wasn't in the car. Ducking back out, Dick did a once over of the car. None of the doors were open and nothing was out of place. Except, of course, his partner who hadn't radioed in to him about responding to any calls, nor did the in car computer show them as receiving any calls.

The back of Dick's neck tingled and he reached to unlatch his handgun from his duty belt a second too late. The cold metal of a gun pressed into the back of his neck. "Don't move, asshole. Didn't think the law would ever catch up, huh? Guess it's my lucky day." Elise growled from behind him.

Dick twirled to face her, inching as far away from the car as possible. "Elise, what the hell. That is so _not_ funny."

Elise's lips turned down into an ugly snarl. "Damn straight. Now put your hands behind your head and interlock your fingers, jackass. I'm not playing around." Though her face was contorted in a mask of anger her normally warm brown eyes were dead. There was no light or understanding behind them. They were unfocused. _Shit_.

"Alright, Elise, alright. Clearly something's happened. I don't know what, but I'm gonna figure it out, okay?"

"Shut the fuck up! Get on the ground, prick!" She clicked off the safety. People were watching from the windows, Dick was sure of it. He didn't dare take his eyes of Elise but he could feel them watching, hear the murmurs through the glass. This was an absolute nightmare. Clearly something was wrong with Elise. Dick racked his brain for clues, information about her past, anything. He was coming up horribly blank.

"Svoboda. Put the gun down, okay? We can talk about this but you gotta holster your weapon."

"Like hell." She growled.

Dick took a couple more very slow steps away from the car. If she was going to shoot, he need to make sure he had somewhere to dive, a place to take cover. He could not allow himself to be pinned down. That would mean death, even with his Kevlar. His training- both the Batman's and the academy's- were kicking in now as the shock of his partner drawing a weapon on him faded into the background.

Her head twitched to follow his movements and that's when he saw it: a shallow gash along her neck, red and angry and bleeding sluggishly. Suddenly, everything was starting to connect.

"Who am I, Elise? Who are you seeing right now?" Dick questioned, hands still raised, reminding her that he wasn't a threat.

"What kind of idiot do you think I am, Donovan? You're going to pay for what you did, you sick son of a bitch."

Donovan. That was the name of the gangbanger who had gunned down her husband a few years back, in retaliation for a major bust he had run. The scratch. The clouded eyes, the nonsense speech and the violent behavior. The five other officers who had gone off the reservation with no explanation. Damian's file had confirmed the gash found on Wallowitz. Babs had poached the files of the other officers and all had been found with strange cuts that the cops had been unable to explain, once they had shaken whatever trance they were apparently under.

A trance, or mind control or something. Something that made them relive something so horrible, they felt they had to defend themselves. Some kind of mind-fuck which made friends look like enemies. _Shit shit shit shit shit._

"I… I shouldn't have done it, okay? Just cuff me. I'll confess. Just cuff me." Dick attempted, slowly offering her his upturned hands.

"You'll…" Slight confusion entered her voice.

"Yeah. I did it. Cuff me, book me. I'll write a statement." Shaking her head, Svoboda lowered her weapon a few inches. It was all Dick needed. He lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and whirling, pressing his back to her chest and twisting her still outstretched hand. Her grip loosened and he managed to knock the gun from her hand. "Sorry, Elise." He said, stomping on her foot as hard as he could while simultaneously elbowing her just below her Kevlar vest. She doubled over and he forced her, face first, onto the hood of the patrol car. The echo of bone on metal seemed louder than normal and he apologized again, knowing it would bruise. "Oh, Elise. You are not going to thank me for that when you wake up from this...whatever it is."

——

Grayson had just finished radioing to dispatch when his cell phone buzzed. Svoboda, handcuffed but still very much under the influence of this new epidemic his academy mates seemed to be catching, was kicking the back of his seat furiously. Rolling his eyes, Dick reached for his phone. It was a text from Damian.

_Babs called. Said you were fine. Confirm when you can._

Dick tapped a response, a code that Batman had told them to use in situations like these. _Flying just fine. I'll call you soon. Make sure Kory knows I'm good_. Then, as an afterthought, he added, _Downplay it._

The short reply said only, copy.

The ride to the precinct was short but stressful. What the hell could be turning perfectly sound cops into violent, hallucinating offenders? A drug? If so, what was with the cuts? Why not a less traceable delivery method such as needles, aerosols or powders?

And if not a drug, what would account for the altered mental status, clouded eyes and aggression? Meta-human mind control? Martian mind control? Magic?

And why cops? Why his academy class? Why these 6 officers? No links could be found between the six, by detectives, Babs, or Damian and Dick themselves. The only connecting factor was that they had all graduated together, and were- previous to their sudden violent outbursts- officers of Bludhaven PD.

Grayson was met at the below-ground entrance to the 5th precinct's lock-up by pretty much every patrol officer in his precinct. _Hell_. Like that would make any of this any easier.

Grayson parked the car, got out and opened the back door. Svoboda looked at him, but the cloudiness was gone. In its place was utter dread. "Grayson- what the hell- what… what happened?"

Grayson put a steadying hand on her shoulders, gently leading her into the processing room. "Don't worry, Elise. I'm gonna help you figure this thing out, okay? I will. But I have to book you right now, and read you your rights."

"Read me my-? Dick?" She looked terrified and on the verge of tears.

"You'll be okay." He whispered, steering her into the jail. "Elise Svoboda, you are under arrest for assault of a police officer with a deadly weapon. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up this right, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during any and all questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you by the state at no cost. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to to you?"

——

Damian was waiting for him in the lobby of the precinct after his shift. Dick had stayed with Elise as long as he could telling her to cooperate as much as she could, get a lawyer, and wait for his next call. She had put on a brave face, holding back tears as Dick pushed past their coworkers and barked at the booking agents who stared but it was clear that she was terrified out of her mind and confused. She had no memory of the events that could have meant the end for him.

Damian gave him a scrutinizing once over, taking in his brother's sagging shoulders and tired eyes. "Glad to see you're alright. How's Svoboda?"

"Handling it the best she can. She has no idea what she did, Damian. I don't think she had control over her body." He and Damian walked down the front steps of the precinct into the brisk night. Since their apartment was only a few blocks away, Dick decided they'd just walk home tonight. He needed the fresh air.

"That begs the question: if she didn't have control of her body, who did?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure as hell going to find out, and catch the bastard."

Damian nodded in agreement. From personal experience, he could testify that Dick didn't take it lightly when people hurt his partners. Dick was a protector at heart. If he had the power in him, he'd do anything it took to keep those he cared for safe. Thankfully, Dick had Damian on his side to help this time.

Dick shook his head, trying to clear away the dark thoughts beginning to circle. "How'd Kory take the news?"

"I don't know. She hasn't responded to my text or voicemail."

Dick frowned. That was very unlike her. "You tried calling?"

"Yes, as I just said. I left a voicemail."

"Did you stop by the apartment today?"

Damian shook his head, clearly not as perturbed as his older brother. "No. I was at the library all day doing research for that stupid assignment father has insisted I finish-"

Dick was dialing Starfire's number before Damian had a chance to finish his sentence. The line rang. And rang. And rang. He and Star had a strict no-ignoring, no-going-dark-without-warning rule built out of years of paranoia and worry. Voice mail. Dick called the land line he had in his apartment, used rarely but installed for emergency purposes. It too rang through to voicemail. No. This was not happening. Dick tried to keep his composure, tried not to overreact. He failed miserably.

"Damian." Dick stopped, tugging on his younger brother's shoulder to make him face Dick. "When was the last time you talked to Star?"

It was clear to Damian that Dick was on the verge of panic. He would have to be the calm, rational one, as usual. "I talked to her after you left. She said…" Damian fought the urge to kick himself as realization struck. "She said she'd be at the apartment all day, but that she'd be reachable, if I needed anything. Said she was just going to iron out some wedding details."

Without warning, Dick had taken off in a sprint toward their apartment. Damian followed close behind. His brother's fears were starting to seep into his head as well. They made it back to the apartment in record time, hardly even out of breath thanks to their rigorous training and exercise regimen. The elevator ride up to the apartment was the worst, because there was nothing to do but stand idly by, waiting and buzzing with nervous energy.

The boys burst into the apartment only to stop dead in their tracks. Starfire was nowhere to be seen. There was, however, ugly red graffiti painted on the dining room wall, opposite of where they had entered. A dripping, ruby message was crudely sprayed above the dining room table. _She called for help but nobody came._

Damian felt his vision blur even as it tinged red. Blood pounding in his ears, Damian gritted his teeth and clenched his fist. To his right, Dick sank to his knees, a look of despair marring his handsome features. Svoboda wouldn't be the only one living through a nightmare today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re gettting into the thick of it now! Please leave your comments, feelings, questions, reviews and/or predictions! I would love to hear from you!


	6. Chapter 6

Damian Wayne was not good with words. He was not good at expressing emotions. Of course he knew he needed to do _something_ , but what? What could possibly help his brother, whose fiancé hand just been snatched from his home? Damian knew, beyond anything else, this was Dick's worst nightmare. The mission, the masks, they had never been his idea. But he had willingly donned them as a naive little boy, pulled into a crusade he couldn't possibly understand by a man with a past just as horrific as his own.

The fight had not been his fight but he had willingly entered it. Had willingly suffered for it. But now, he wasn't the only one suffering. _That_ was Dick's worst nightmare: the suffering of others, because of his choices. To Dick, anything that happened to Starfire from here on might as well have been dealt to her from his own hands.

Suddenly, Damian had no more time to contemplate his brother's psyche, because the brother himself was standing, rigid, face contorted. If Damian hadn't been taught to keep his composure under stress, he would have flinched. Dick's unforgiving scowl, locked jaw and stormy azure eyes looked more like Bruce than he had ever seen. He dared not say it aloud, however, as this too was one of Dick's deepest fears.

"Get the suits, Flamebird. We're getting her back." Damian advanced to Dick's bedroom, a chill running down his spine. Dick never called Damian Flamebird when they were out of costume. Hardly ever did even when they were _in_ costume. Dick was distancing himself. _Very_ un-Grayson like. _Very_ bad sign. Nonetheless, Damian moved to heed Dick's demand.

When he re-entered the room, already suited up, Dick was on the phone. "Babs, damn it, I don't have time for the questions. Did you or did you not place a tracker in her phone? I know you and Alfred have us all tagged."

Damian threw Dick his suit who began to change immediately, placing the cell phone on the counter, speakerphone on.

"I have a last known location, but Dick, I'm not sure you should be doing this. Let me call Bruce, Jason, somebody." Concern was evident in her voice, which quaked slightly. She was fond of Starfire. They two had often gone shopping together during Dick's Teen Titan days, as a way to prove to Dick that she and he could still be friends despite their previous romantic history.

" **Barbara**." Dick roared, slamming his fists on the countertop. "She is my fiancé. My responsibility. There is no fucking way I'm sitting on the sidelines like a good little soldier while someone else-" He sucked a ragged breath through his teeth.

"Alright, Dick. The GPS says she was last at the fairgrounds on the east side of town, just past the highway."

Slapping on his blue eye mask, Dick cursed. "This is someone we know. Someone we have history with."

This time, it was Flamebird who spoke, asking the question on both his and Babs's mind. "How do you know?" Damian almost didn't want the answer, sure that it would only increase the dread which had settled firmly in the pit of his stomach.

"Because that was the next stop on Haly's tour. That was the show my parent's and I never performed." Dick jammed a comm unit in his ear, shoving his phone in one of the pouches of his gloves. Damian followed suit, placing an earwig in his ear as well.

Nightwing led the motorcade of two to the fairgrounds, finding the way easily. It was a place he had visited several times in his life, searching for some meaning or solace. All he had found was a few neglected circus animals and a keen ache for his parents.

Nightwing left the visor of his helmet off, allowing the wind to draw tears from his eyes. He needed this, the drag of the cool night air on his face. _This- this rush of endorphins, the feel of the hair whipping around his face, the sting of his eyes even as they watered- this is what clarity felt like._

From the second Dick had asked Damian about marrying Starfire, he felt like he was standing on a precipice. Like his future was toeing the edge of some huge cliff, waiting just on the edge of solid ground and a weightless, blustering free fall. And when he had seen those dripping, red words standing out so obscenely against the dining room wall that Starfire had helped him paint, he had felt himself tip forward, had felt the tug at his gut, plunging ever downward. _He was in free all. Fine. That's where he operated best._

Flamebird followed slightly behind Nightwing on his newly acquired bike- a birthday present from Father. He was just about to pull up level with Grayson when Bab's voice filtered through the comm unit. "He can't hear us. I get that he feels responsible but he's not in his right mind, Damian. He is not capable of being rational right now."

Damian 'tt-ed' in response, weaving his bike to mirror the movements of Nightwing's. They would be at the fairgrounds within two minutes. "I'm aware. What should I do?"

She heaved a heavy sigh, grieved and horrified by what she had to say. "You have to be Batman, Damian. You have to be what Dick can never be allowed to become. It doesn't matter what happens to Star, whether she lives or not. If Dick becomes Bruce he'll be lost to us forever."

"Be ready to deploy backup, Oracle, but do not alert father just yet. This crucible needs only one Bat. And that role," Damian jerked on the handlebars, swerving to a stop, "has already been filled."

The second his kickstand was down, Nightwing was swinging his leg over the seat, gearing himself up for whatever might await them. Flamebird came to stand beside his partner. _"You have to be Batman."_ Damian squared his shoulders. With a flick of his finger against his mask, Damian clicked on the infrared lenses. Nightwing made to move forward but Flamebird's hand shot out, wrapping around the older's wrist. "Wait." Damian scanned back and forth. There were no signs of heat signatures, nothing to indicate a living presence. Still, that meant very little in their world, anymore.

"We'll go through the front, then. Be looking out for-"

"Booby traps. Trip wires. Lasers. Scopes. Yeah." Nightwing wasn't being sarcastic, just clipped. He couldn't say it, but he was relieved that someone was here, forcing him to keep his head. It might have grated on his nerves, but deep down, he knew it was the best chance he had of saving Starfire.

The two carefully pulled back the flaps of the tent's entrance, the smell of dung and straw heavy in the air. If Dick wasn't so fucking scared, he might have been nostalgic. They entered slowly, careful to examine every square foot before moving forward. There were no lights on inside, so the two were forced to squint in the near dark of the fading sunlight. A stage sat in the center of the round tent, ringed by rows of worn, beaten, wood bleacher seats. The floor was dirty, covered with straw and stale popcorn.

Everything was still. Silent. Dick was just about to note this aloud when a spotlight blared to life, blinding in its brilliance as it pointed straight at the two heroes. The two threw up matching elbows, attempting to block out the tear-inducing white heat of the lamp. "Welcome, gentlemen, to the circus." An emotionless voice called from the rafters. Damian bit back a curse. He knew that voice. And from the way Nightwing stiffened beside him, Dick recognized it too. Simon Hurt.

"You know, circuses date all the way back to Greek and Roman tradition." Suddenly the voice was much closer. A body had appeared in the center of the ring. "Yes, the Romans had staged fights, plays, performances. And the charade never ended. Helmets were traded for jesters caps, dunce hats for face paint. Red noses for cowls and capes, isn't that right, Flightless Grayson?"

Damian had no time to react as Nightwing pounced, escrimas already drawn. They came down upon the shoulders of the figure in the ring with a sickening crack. The figure crumpled, limp. Flamebird rushed forward to inspect what Dick was staring at. A woman that looked shockingly like Elise Svoboda lay unconscious at his feet. If it weren't for the grey eyes and the deep scarring circling her face, he wouldn't have known the difference.

"Another misstep for the Boy Blunder, hmm? Can't you do _anything_ right?" A voice from behind jeered. They whirled to face the owner but no one was there. "Show your face you gutless coward!" Dick demanded, voice raw. "Let Starfire go and you might get out of here with a few unbroken bones."

Damian's brain rushed to discover what was going on. Where was Simon? Where was Starfire? It hit him like a ton of bricks and his knees almost went weak at the realization. Neither were here. "Nightwing it's a trap. They're not here. We've got to get the hell away from here." Flamebird whispered to Nightwing.

"Ah, at last, the baby Bat gets it. At least _somebody_ is paying attention." Suddenly the sound of ripping fabric filled the tent from every direction. No matter which way the boys turned, a different body was tearing through the tent, advancing on them slowly. Without words, in perfect unison the two adjusted their positions, widening their stances and maneuvering until they were back to back. Just as they had a hundred times as Batman and Robin or Nightwing and Flamebird, the brothers prepared themselves for a war against the worst odds.

The first wave stepped into the light of the stage and Dick knew they were in trouble. _He_ was in trouble. Wally, red hair reflecting the stage lights, glared cruelly at him, drawing nearer. Beside him, Tim Drake, similarly scowling, approached beside him. To their left, the woman who had sold him the ring he had yet to give Star. Except it wasn't them. Not _quite_. Though they were near identical matches, each had some small flaw which labeled them fakes, along with puckered red scars which haloed their faces.

"Ah, yes. You've noticed. Quite exquisite work, no? Professor Pyg's ingenuity, of course. He was all too happy to lend them to me after the two of you threw him in jail the last time."

"Jason. Huntress. Bruce. Selina." Damian listed under his breath, informing Dick, trying to relay as much information as possible. It would be killing his brother, he knew, but Nightwing would have to endure. They both would.

Dick followed suit, "Wally, Tim, saleswoman, Babs." His voice cracked. Underneath their blank eyes and new faces, these people were really just civilians. Innocent bystanders brainwashed and disfigured by the psychotic mass murderer, professor Pyg, who often worked in tandem with Dr. Hurt. The goal of the boys would be to incapacitate with as little damage possible. These people were victims; had done nothing to be in the situation they were now in.

Flamebird considered the dollotrons he was squaring up with, the faces he was confronted with. And then he considered those Dick was facing. Not good. The ones gunning for his big brother would arguably have the biggest emotional blow on him. The fact that, logically, these weren't really his friend wouldn't make it any easier to punch out the faces of three of his closest friends, and a woman who had a close association with Starfire.

Apparently, despite his emotional distress, Nightwing was thinking the same thing, because he and Damian shouted at the same time, "Switch!"

With no further communication, Nightwing vaulted over Flamebird's head, in a single, perfectly executed backflip as Flamebird dive rolled underneath, hopping up to face his brother's opponents.

No sooner had Nightwing stuck his landing then a twisted version of Jason leapt toward him. Though his face and hair looked much like Dick's first adoptive brother, his build was all wrong- lanky and lacking Jason's bulky muscle. Nonetheless his voice was a near perfect match as he accused, "The Golden Boy and his favorite little sidekick, huh? No room for me when I need a place to stay, but Daddy's little acrobat and the blood-brat get free rent. The more things change, the more they stay the same." With the help of Hurt, Pyg had apparently managed to program each of the dollotrons with memories of his real friends and family, training each to say what would cut at Dick the most.

Nightwing ducked under not-Jason's arms, spinning and kicking him in the small of the back. The Not-Jason stumbled but recovered remarkably quickly, turning and unsheathing a gleaming blade from his belt. Dick leapt backwards, avoiding a surprisingly well aimed slash at the least armored part of his suit, near his upper thigh. Nightwing swung an escrima at the man's rib cage, hitting his target with the sound of bone groaning under force. Not-Jason didn't flinch. Shit.

The dollotron slashed again, very nearly sinking his blade into the skin of Dick's neck. Nightwing sent his fist flying into the face of his opponent, once, twice. He felt cartilage pop and bone splinter as he broke Not-Jason's nose, but it had no effect. His blade ripped at the flesh of Nightwing's shoulder, who cried out in surprise. Playing nice was evidently not an option. Grunting in effort, Nightwing slid two batarangs from his left glove, flicking them easily into the loafered feet of Not-Jason. The dollotron roared in indignation but did not advance. He was effectively pinned to the floor. Nightwing flipped, scissor kicking in mid air and sending his heel crashing into the man's temple. He would be out for a while.

Nightwing could hear Damian and Not-Tim screaming, throwing fists and curses. If he wasn't thinking about it, it almost sounded like a normal night in Wayne Manor, perhaps a family dinner. But of course it wasn't, and he didn't have time to think like that. The fake Huntress and Selina came at him together, both swishing their hips and wielding their weapons of choice; a crossbow for Huntress and a barbed whip for Catwoman.

Technically, Dick had fought both women several times, so this scene didn't affect him as much as fighting Babs would have. But still, Selina had always been kind to him, even when he and Batman had chased her through Gotham, trying to recover whatever it was she had stolen. Perhaps because she and Bruce had a thing for each other, though Dick had always felt it was more than that. As a kid, Selina had always treated him like a kid, made sure he was safe, in a way that Bruce never had. As an adult, Selina had been a source of encouragement and advice, especially where Starfire was involved. "Dick." She chided, flicking her whip menacingly, "poor boy. Bruce should have left you in the circus where you belong. This family doesn't want you. It doesn't need you. _It never has_."

Huntress stalked forward, in perfect unison with Catwoman. He and Huntress had worked together on many cases but had also had their fair share of battles. Much like Jason, her sense of justice was much more gray than his, and her moral compass never got in the way of a mission. A long time ago, the two had been lovers, though both had acknowledged they were doomed from the start. Still, in his own way, he respected Huntress, and apparently, Simon knew this too. "Not quite living up to all the hype, are you? All that training, all those years of fighting with the Bat. You think some of it would have stuck. No wonder Bruce has put so much effort into replacing you. _What a disappointment_." The women flew forwards, Huntress shooting off bolts from her bow.

Nightwing dove to the right only to feel a white hot pain wrap itself around his right calf. Catwoman's whip. She withdrew it with a flick of the wrist but not without leaving some serious damage, barbs tearing at his flesh as they were yanked away. Nightwing shot a grappling hook at the rafters above, allowing it to pull him skyward. About halfway to the top, Nightwing released his grip on the gun, gravity dragging him back to his awaiting attackers. He had a split second to see that Damian had downed two of his own opponents before Nightwing was forced to focus on his current targets. Hands outstretched, Nightwing used Huntress's shoulders as his personal springboard, forcing her to collapse even as he launched himself back into the air, allowing him to drive an escrima toward Catwoman.

The two collapsed, leaving him one final, terrible opponent. He had saved the worst for last. "Dick. What the hell have you done?" Not-Bruce interrogated coldly. This one looked the most like his original, down to the muscular build and the piercing blue eyes.

"He's not Bruce. He's not Bruce." Dick muttered to himself, trying to convince his brain that what it was seeing wasn't real. It was hard, especially as Not-Bruce loomed over him, brow drawn low over menacing eyes. It was a look Dick had seen a thousand times, as he had watched Batman abuse and brutalize criminals. "It's not Bruce. It's not Dad." He whispered desperately to himself.

"No. I'm not your father. I wouldn't claim you as my own even if I wanted to. You're no son of mine, Dick. No. You're nothing more than the biggest mistake I ever made." Not Bruce slapped Nightwing across the face, hard, before he had the chance to dodge.

"You failed me in every respect, Dick!" Not Bruce accused, landing a punch in Dick's stomach. He stumbled backward, only to have Not Bruce grab the fabric of his suit, tugging him into an unforgiving knee.

"I tried to train you! Tried to make you anything more than the weak, scared little boy I found trembling in a tent just like this one." Nightwing threw a punch at Not-Bruce's ribs but was blocked. "I gave you every chance, but you still couldn't do the one thing I asked. The _one thing_ I asked."

Not Bruce flung Nightwing across the ring. Dick's back hit the central support column hard, knocking the wind out of him. "All I asked was that you be _better_ than me. But here we are." Not Bruce tugged harshly at his hair, forcing him to look at the scattered bodies littering the Big Top. In the single spotlight, at this angle, it was almost impossible to tell the doppelgängers apart from his friends.

A yell rang out in the tent, and Nightwing struggled to turn his head, trying to see the source of the strangled cry, desperate to convince himself it wasn't who he knew the cry came from. Across the tent, Damian stood stock still, an angry but apologetic look on his face. Simon hurt stood behind him, forcing a blade to the throat of Nightwing's favorite partner; the throat of Dick's little brother.

Not Bruce yanked his head back painfully, ensuring he would watch. Leaning forward the man whispered, "Everything you touch, you destroy. Like Father, like son."

Dick watched in horror as Simon slammed the hilt of his blade down towards Flamebird's head. The boy crumpled and Simon lifted him easily, leaping into the bed of a truck, and urging the driver forward. Nightwing felt panic once more take hold of him as an arm hooked around his neck, cutting of his airway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah. This was a long chapter. A lot happened! The trouble continues for Dick and Dami. Can anybody tell which storyline I am (albeit very loosely) pulling from? What are your thoughts? Concerns?
> 
> Let me know, guys. You have been very supportive so far, which I appreciate greatly! You all are wonderful readers. Much love.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything was spinning out of control. Starfire was nowhere to be found. Damian had been taken before his very eyes. Around him, a new wave of dollotrons started their approach. Simon Hurt was at the center of yet _another_ twisted conspiracy to push the Dick over the edge. And a replica of his adoptive father was strangling the life out of him. _His free fall was starting to feel more like a tailspin. Clarity was a lot harder to come by when his whole world was spinning._

Nightwing's lungs burned and his vision blurred. Every part of his body ached, crying out for the oxygen it was so desperate for. The cries of his body were almost as loud of the screams of his own mind, as it cursed him for his stupidity yet again. Despite all of Batman's training, despite all his years as a vigilante, he had once again let his emotions bring him down. And now he had lost the two most important people in his life.

And he was suffocating. His body willed him to forget his despair and fight for his life. There were people that were depending on him. He needed to get control of himself. He wasn't sure how long the struggle with Not-Bruce had been going on, but he knew by the way the room was spinning that he was about to lose consciousness, and then everything _would_ be lost. He tried to pry at Not-Bruce's fingers, stomp on his toes, anything that would loosen his iron grip, but to no avail. He couldn't move.

He felt himself falling closer, deeper into the inky blackness of unconsciousness. He had no control, could find no purchase. White noise thundered in his ears and bile rose up in his throat. This must have been how normal people felt when they were falling. For the first time in his life, Dick understood the fear.

Just before he entered utter oblivion, a brilliant green light shone above, bringing with it heat and a booming, unmistakable cry. "RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON." Starfire. Thank God.

Not-Bruce was ripped away from Nightwing who instantly collapsed on his side, choking and spluttering as his body attempted to intake all of the oxygen it had been missing out on. He heaved in ragged breaths, trying to get a grip on his surroundings. He could hear the the pained groans of Not-Bruce, along with dull thumps and a self satisfied sniff from Starfire. The cloth ceiling of the tent was ablaze, lending light to the shadowed space. The fire was no doubt set by the brilliant plasma blasts shot by an extremely pissed Tameranian. _His_ extremely pissed Tameranian. He didn't know how the hell she got here or where the hell she'd been, but in this moment he didn't care. In this moment, one less thing was crumbling down. Now, he had one of his anchors back. _Finally. A North Star to help him get his bearings. Suddenly the tailspin wasn't quite so disorienting anymore._

Starfire knelt beside him, one hand still alight with green energy. She was in her Teen Titans uniform; what looked like an armored gymnastics leotard with a diamond shaped cutout just below the hollow of her neck. "I cannot leave you alone for five minutes without you getting yourself into trouble."

"You know most girls like the bad boy image," Nightwing managed between coughs.

She shook her head, wearing a grim smile. "Not this girl." She shot off a few Starbolts and he could hear the crackling energy and the zap of the impact as they met their targets expertly.

"Not too much power, there," Nightwing advised, attempting to sit up. "They're innocents. Brainwashed, but still, innocents."

Starfire stood to her full, impressive height, lending him a hand up. He took it gratefully and allowed her to haul him up. "Innocents though they may be, they still pose a considerable threat." She eyed him up and down once as if to prove her point. He was bleeding in several places, his suit ripped considerably.

Nightwing glanced around. The dollotrons he and Flamebird had fought seemed to still be incapacitated but more had come to take their place. They stood in the bleachers, heads tilted, apparently assessing the new threat. They grouped closer to Nightwing, apparently considering Starfire their biggest threat. Smart. Starfire was all glowy still, hovering above the ground, eyes illuminated with sparking green energy. Fury danced in her eyes and the clench of her fist, a wicked smile-meant to intimidate- playing at the corner of her full lips. She was in full warrior princess mode. In short: she was fucking _terrifying_.

A piece of burning canvas fell to the floor from above and Nightwing glanced up. The ceiling was nearly fully engulfed and it was only a matter of time before the whole wooden structure caught. "We better make this quick. We don't have time."

"Agreed." Starfire intoned. Though he couldn't see her eyes behind the glowing sheen of her powers, he knew she was scanning their enemies, making her own assessments. "How injured are you?" She asked not as a girlfriend but as a trained strategist, one used to combat.

"I can fight." To prove his point he raised his fists to his face, widening his stance and bouncing on the balls of his feet. It hurt like hell but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.

"Very well. I see Donna, Garth, Clark, and Tiger, your friend from your Spyral mission." Her voice was tense. Clearly she wasn't too keen on fighting people that looked like their friends either.

Nightwing scanned the corners to the far right of Starfire. "You've got Alfred and Terra wannabes on your end." He identified, spotting the two figures on the very top level of bleachers.

"I think you are better off taking the two, then." Starfire decided. She made it sound as if her decision was based on his level of injury. Nightwing knew that really, she would rather fight four of her friends than have to beat up a man who looked like Alfred. The two had a very sweet friendship, and had ever since the first time Dick had brought her to Wayne Manor. While Bruce had been his typical suspicious self, Alfred had immediately taken a liking to her, after she had admonished Dick for not liking Alfred's fish loaf. Dick had awoken the next morning to find Starfire and Alfred in the kitchen, still in the clothes from the night before, and still heavily entrenched in some fascinating conversation. The two had stayed up all night talking like a couple of teenage girls.

Starfire lifted a couple more feet into the air. "Try not to get sliced to pieces while I am occupied, Nightwing." Though she was now angled to her targets, her head turned ever so slightly in his direction.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess." With that, the two heroes streaked off in opposite directions. The Clark dollotron leapt at her first, which didn't bother her in the slightest. He was the biggest of the four and she had picked him as her biggest challenge though she used the word 'challenge' loosely. With extreme confidence, she met him in the air, arm swinging to block his strike perfectly. Gravity began to tug him out of her reach, so she took it upon herself to lift him by the scruff of the sweater, sucker punching him twice with a fraction of her actual strength. He groaned and she sent him careening into the bleacher with little effort.

Donna took action next, swinging a piece of wood that appeared to have once been a part of the tent's structure. She wielded it much like a baseball bat, aiming for Starfire's head. The red head dodged none too quickly and attempted to fire a starbolt at the dark haired girl when something remarkably dense smashed into the back of her head. Pieces of rock tumbled down her shoulders on impact. It hurt fiercely, she had to admit, but it would take much more to stop her. Starfire flew backwards in the blink of an eye, colliding with Garth, whom she presumed to be the culprit.

He raised another rock, face blank and lips unmoving. Starfire dropped to a single knee, grabbing hold of his ankle and swinging him above her head. In the next instant, he was knocking over Donna who had once again risen to approach. Starfire turned to her right. She was within arms reach of the bleachers. Ignoring the splinters that embedded themselves in her fingers, Starfire ripped up a minivan sized piece of graduating seating, using her foot as leverage against the remaining benches.

With a slight heave, the section pulled free. Plucking several sturdy looking metal bars from her haul, she flitted over to the two groaning dollotrons. Starfire made quick work of incapacitating them, bending the bars around the two to form a binding. They wouldn't be moving anytime soon without superhuman strength or a set of tools known to rescue workers as 'the jaws of life.'

Feet never touching the ground, she turned to face her final opponent. In the background she could hear Nightwing yell, "Holy shit, that hurt!"

Starfire kept her gaze steady on Not-Tiger but shouted to her partner, "Are you in need of assistance?" She was pretty sure he wasn't, since his exclamation held more humor than desperation, but he _was_ quite injured, despite what he'd have her believe. Not that she believed the forced smile or stunted banter from earlier. She knew him better than that. They had spent years together on the Teen Titans, fighting side by side. And they had spent many of those days watching over each other in infirmary beds, or insisting that they take a few more days rest. Just as his mentor, he never let a little thing like pain or near fatal injuries keep him down. Which was why he was back at the Police Department by day and once again in tights by night a mere _month_ after being run through with a sword.

"No, dear, thanks, dear!" His false sarcasm rang out, "Old guy just hits harder than I expected." Starfire grunted in irritation.

Not Tiger was still perched on the handrail of the bleachers, studying her just as she studied him. He was apparently not willing to make the first move. That suited her just fine. She aimed an eye beam just to the left of the dollotron, causing boards to splinter apart as they exploded, forcing the man into the air. He leapt gracefully away from the flying wreckage. Unfortunately, he leapt directly at Stafire. She swerved to the side, midair, but he managed to get his arms around her waist. She did _not_ like that.

Starfire accelerated upward, deadly quick but his grip remained strong. She performed a series of quick ariel loops and dives, hoping to buck him but with no luck. Fine. She had tried it the nice way. She wasn't in the mood for nice anymore. She broke his left wrist without remorse, catching him only just before he hit the ground.

Nightwing was standing amongst the many bodies that now littered the area. Two fingers were pressed to the side of his mask, which meant he was in communication with somebody. Probably Babs. For the first time since she arrived, she let her feet touch the ground.

Dick signed off with Babs. "This whole place is about to come down." He informed, tugging at the skin tight neck of his costume. He was sweating profusely, his cheeks flushed. Apparently the fire had made it much hotter in here than she had realized. Her biology was quite a bit different than that of a human; meaning, for one thing, that her body tolerated a much more extreme range of temperatures. Starfire eyed the structure, nodding in agreement. "Alright, let's round 'em up and haul 'em out," Dick sighed, "I have Babs sending a couple of police vans to detain these guys."

The two spent the next couple of minutes in silence, dragging prone bodies out of the burning circus tent. It was a shame, really. Starfire had become quite fond of circuses in the time that she had known Dick. He had taken her a couple of times, just to show her what his early years had been like. Though the visits had always been a little bitter sweet, the two had managed to have fun each time.

Once the group of unwilling assailants had been removed from immediate danger, Starfire rounded on Nightwing. "Where is Flamebird?"

Nightwing shrunk back, retreating into himself. "Simon Hurt got a hold of him. I'm not sure where they went." His voice was pure defeat, his body a mess of stress and anxiety.

"Hurt...From your days as Batman?" Starfire grimaced. The two had split for a short time when Dick had taken up the mantle of Batman. It had been a painful break up.

"Yes."

"The one intent on unraveling you, trying to dismantle you by destroying those you love?" Starfire questioned, seeking confirmation though dreading it.

"Yes."

"Dick." She chided weakly through a sigh.

"We came home to a message that implied you had been taken. You didn't answer any form of communication." Nightwing explained, desperate for an excuse, desperate for anything that would free him from culpability of Damian's capture.

"Yes, Babs explained when I called her. Someone apparently made a digital copy of my phone, found a way to get control of my phone. Whomever it was used it to manipulate the both of us. Only ten minutes before you arrived home, I received an urgent text from you saying I was needed at the Tower in San Francisco. When I arrived, no one had any idea what I was talking about. I got back and no one was in the apartment. Nothing but the paint. I called Barbara and she pieced together what happened, sent me directly to you."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

Nightwing looked like shit, if she had anything to say about it. He looked exhausted and worn and terrified. He looked pretty much how she felt, except that his body was just as battered as his psyche, where hers had hardly taken damage. She had no desire to add to his misery or pain, but he had been so _stupid_. Careless with his own life, as usual. And _that_? That terrified her. But they couldn't get into that here. Not now. Not when Damian was in need of their help.

Poor Damian. Truly, the spitting image of Bruce. But when Starfire looked at him, it was not his father that she saw. It was his eldest adoptive brother, Dick. All flashing blue eyes, boundless confidence, and a knack for getting in trouble. An iron will and an itch to be better. Of course, the two had their differences but since they had become partners one again, she had seen many of those differences fade. Deep down, Damian was a sad boy, hoping beyond hope for a better outcome. For a brighter future. For a change in the odds, for the scales to tilt in his favor for once.

The police arrived on scene and began to arrest the suspects. They were used to these pick ups by now, after Nightwing's months of work.

"Where can we find this Dr. Hurt?" She asked, injecting a confidence she didn't feel in her voice.

"I-I don't know." Nightwing's grieved expression sent a pang of guilt through her heart. She hadn't exactly been making this easier on him.

She stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Yes, you do. Nightwing. You have faced this threat before. He is not unknown. You have defeated him before. He is not unstoppable." She had allowed the glow of her eye beams to fade out a while ago, so she fixed him with a fortifying gaze.

He stood a little taller, keen to make eye contact with her. "Right, okay. He's obsessive. His goal is to tear me down, one loved one at a time. That's why he grabbed-" Nightwing's voice broke momentarily before he swallowed and continued, "Flamebird. He's obsessed with the Egyptian God of death, Anubis."

"Good. Did you get that, Oracle?" Starfire questioned through her comm link.

"Searching now." Came a determined voice through both of their ears. "How about the life sized replica of one of the Egyptian pyramids, courtesy of the Marcus Casino?"

"Sounds like as good a start as any," Nightwing acknowledged. "Mind checking out the security cameras as we head over, report anything you find?"

"Way ahead of you, Boy Wonder."

Starfire nodded, lifting into the air. "Then let us go get our boy."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who guessed that my storyline loosely mirrors the Shawn storyline from Nightwing Rebirth, congrats! You guessed correctly. Thank you for your comments and kudos. What do you guys think of this chapter? Any predictions or concerns?  
> Let me know. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

The two left the fairgrounds after leaving brief instructions for handling of the prisoners and thanks to the police officers, in addition to a growled warning to leave the motorcycles alone.

Starfire lifted into the air, scooping Nightwing up under his armpits and zooming toward the casino at his instructions. Flying would be faster and give them the benefit of a slightly more covert operation.

Nightwing could feel the tension in her arms, and knew it had nothing to do with carrying him through the air.

"Star, what's the matter?" He asked in resignation, comm unit voiding the need to yell over the wind.

"You mean besides being worried sick for Damian?" Her voice was strained from emotion and they dipped a couple of inches as her flight was momentarily compromised. She swallowed hard and rose back up.

"Star I am mortified and scared beyond belief. I'm sick about this whole thing too, believe me. Nothing is turning out how it was supposed to." Nightwing mourned softly. "But we know what we have to do right now. We have to go rescue Damian. That's what our full focus needs to be on. We can't let anything- _anything_ \- get in the way of that. Which means you and I need to be a fully functioning team."

"And you are questioning my ability to act as such?" She sounded angry now, like when she burst into the roof of the tent in all her blazing, furious glory.

"Star, I can tell you're mad. I just don't have the time or the brain power to figure out what you're mad about right now. And I think it's in Damian's best interest to sort it out and get our minds straight before we go in and risk making a mistake that we'll both regret forever."

Starfire was silent for a long time as they soared above the rooftops of Bludhaven's downtown. At night, when the breeze blew the ocean mist in toward the city and the sun wasn't there to reveal all the cracked, rundown shop fronts, Bludhaven was gorgeous. All shimmering lights, festive music and the hope of a good sunrise.

"You didn't ask for back up." Came her near silent plea. It was stricken with a grief that made a lump form in his throat.

"I… I don't understand." Nightwing replied honestly, trying desperately to understand what had her so upset it was affecting her ability to fly.

"You thought I was in danger. I understand that, I do. You were worried for my safety and anxious to come help me. I appreciate that. But you went into a situation which was clearly dangerous with only a child for backup. He is well trained, I know, that is not the point." She bent her elbows, lifting him closer to her as they continued to sail through the night sky. "Not only did you not seek backup, but you denied taking it when it was offered to you. Why would you do that?" She sounded desperate now.

The lights of the casino could be seen distantly from the air now, but she maintained her altitude as they approached, a tactical maneuver meant to avoid detection by camera or watchful guard.

"You wanted me to call on backup." Nightwing stated, seeking her approval.

"I want you to consider your own safety for once!" Her accusation sounded harsh in the stillness of the air. They were hovering high above the casino now. Nightwing felt his face blanch and was almost thankful that she was holding him from behind, preventing her from seeing his ashen features. She too was relieved to be able to have this conversation without being face to face. She was sure one look at his mournful eyes would have broken her resolve. This needed to be said. Had been for a while. _There was just never a good time._

"You have spent your life _risking_ your life for the benefit of others. It is a part of you. A part that I love. You consider the safety of others before your own safety. Always. Could you not at least take some self preserving measures while doing so, for the sake of those that love _you_? I do not know if I can be married to someone who is so reckless he would deny backup, just so his bravado would be spared. How can I let myself love someone who is so determined to do things in a way that is going to get him killed?"

The last sentence was like a knife to the gut, which he unfortunately new from experience. He thought they had addressed all of her concerns about his safety after his fight with Talia, but apparently he had been mistaken. If Dick had been standing on solid ground, he would probably have staggered back. He wanted to scream at her for being wrong, for accusing him of something that wasn't true but when he tried, no words sprung from his lips. There was nothing he could say to counter her concerns. Because they were valid. She was right.

"Set us down somewhere, Star." It was the last thing he wanted to do, because time was really of the essence here, but there was no way he was running into a potentially deadly mousetrap without clearing the air first. They alighted onto the roof of an adjacent building, behind a protruding facade wall, him first-since he was still dangling from her arms- followed closely by her as she withdrew her hands from him. Nightwing carefully pulled her hands back toward him, facing her now. He held both of her small, strong hands in one of his, resting them against his chest. His other hand reached out to touch her cheek.

"You're right. I have more to think about now, more people who depend on me, just as much as I depend on them. I'm not quite used to it yet. I haven't had people that depend on me in a long time. But when we get Damian out of here, the three of us will sit down and come up with some rules, okay? And until then, I'm not going anywhere without backup. Deal?" He dragged his thumb gently across her cheek bone.

"Deal." She leaned into his hand briefly.

"Okay. Do you count as my backup or do I need to call someone?" He ventured lightly.

She scrunched her nose laughingly. "I am worth _at least_ two backups."

Nightwing crushed her in a very short but very meaningful hug before pulling away to examine the casino. "Roger that. Then let's get what we came for then, huh? Oracle." Nightwing hailed through the comm link.

She answered immediately, ready, as always, to help. "I'm here, Nightwing. I gained access to the cameras a few minutes ago and have been monitoring since. From what I can tell, there are no dollotrons. Entrances are left unguarded. Simon entered carrying Flamebird- who was fully conscious and cursing like a sailor but tied up very efficiently." Relief instantly washed over Nightwing who fought to hold back a relieved half sob. Oracle forged on, "Not sure even he will be able to break out of those bonds. They entered the very back ballroom which currently houses an Egyptian exhibit."

"What does that look like?" Nightwing asked, wanting as much information as possible. Starfire was right about being smarter about how he did things. And he was going to start right now.

"No cameras, so I don't have eyes. And from the look of these building plans, only one entrance, which leads from the main casino floor. Air ducts aren't big enough to enter through, even for a skinny girl like Star. Hey, by the way." Oracle greeted, trying to be polite, though her focus was probably on a dozen different screens and layouts at once.

"Hello, Oracle. Does the ballroom have any windows? A fire exit?"

"Good thoughts, but no on the windows. And according to these pictures of the exhibit, they temporarily blocked the fire escape door with some big display item- _wonder how they did that?_ " Her voice dripped with sarcasm. Bludhaven was known for its widespread corruption of public officials. Bribing one's local city council member or inspector was pretty much Bludhaven's equivalent of tipping the waiter at a restaurant.

"So he's bottlenecking us in." Both the vigilante and the cop in Dick hated that. It went against every procedure, every rule, every piece of good sense and sound strategic tactics that Dick knew.

"..." Silence on the other end of the line. He could hear Oracle clicking away furiously, trying to give him an answer other than the unspoken one hanging in the air.

"Great. Alright, we'll be in communication." Nightwing tried to sound optimistic but even to his ears it came out sounding flat.

"Be careful, you two." Oracle warned over the radio. Then, as if to leave them on a more optimistic note, she added, "When you guys get out of there, I'm coming over and we're going to have a serious conversation about why I had to find out through _Jason_ that you two are getting married. Morons."

Starfire airlifted the two of them to the front entrance. A more covert entrance would be unnecessary, seeing that they'd only have one choice of entrance once inside. A sign on the front door said that the casino was temporarily closed for renovations. Nightwing quickly picked the lock, pulling the door open for Starfire with an extravagant flourish of his hand. "After you."

Starfire stepped through, keeping her head on a swivel. Her eyes carefully scanned the rows of unlit slots machines, craps and pool tables, roulette wheels and the long, stainless steel bar.

Nothing moved. There were no signs of danger, nothing to cause alarm. Tables and chairs were stacked in corners, sections of carpet had been ripped up. Gambling machines were pulled away from half painted walls and buckets of paint and tools littered the floor.

With Oracle acting as their audio tour guide, they made their way through the extravagant casino. They passed a concierge desk, indoor water park, a full service day spa and a small theater.

"Alright. You're there." Oracle informed as the two stood before a massive set of oak doors. They were firmly shut, dashing Nightwing's small hope of sneaking a peek inside without detection.

"Alright, we're going radio silent. We'll hail you in a few."

"I'll anxiously await your call." Oracle promised sincerely.

Nightwing placed a hand on the knob of the right door. He nodded at Star who instantly hovered a few inches off the floor, hands aglow with sizzling green heat. Nightwing silently counted down from three on his fingers, flinging the door open at the culmination of his countdown. Starfire entered the room swiftly, swerving out of the door's frame as she had been trained to do, many years ago. Police officers often called door frames and hallways "funnels of death" for a reason- there was nowhere to duck or dive if someone started shooting at you.

Both cleared the door frame, ducking to opposite sides. Display cases and informational charts filled the room. Replica columns stood on either side of the door they had just entered through, covered in hieroglyphs.

Nightwing had eyes for none of this, however. His gaze was locked solely on the two figures at the other end of the room, about forty feet away. At the feet of a fifteen foot replica of the jackel-headed god Anubis, were Dr. Simon Hurt and Flamebird. Only, Flamebird wasn't standing or even sitting. He was tied down to some sort of stone bench. Nightwing felt his stomach drop as he recognized what it was: a sarcophagus. Simon stood in front, hands clasped in front of himself as if he were perfectly comfortable.

Simon wore a two piece black suit, a white collared shirt and a black neck tie. He would have looked entirely ordinary if it weren't for the blue knee length cape that was draped over his shoulders, tied at the neck and the large black mask which covered his face from the nose up. It dipped just above his nose before rising into two points at either end of his head, near his temples. It curled wickedly, just as his lips did.

"Nightwing, and your little lovebird, Starfire. It was about time we met, wasn't it? I suppose you both think you've been through quite a scare today? Well, as they say, everything is relative." White teeth flashed sinisterly at the conclusion of his threat. "Richard, Damian and I are old friends, as I'm sure you know, _Kory_ ," he smiled cruelly at her sharp intake of breath. "But I suppose I should properly introduce myself. I'm Dr. Simon Hurt, a psychologist blacklisted by my former colleagues. You see, I studied the personal tragedies of the unfortunate. Of course, none fall more squarely into this category than our heroes; from the mythology of Ancient Greece to the modern guardians of our world today." He gestured at the three heroes, as if making his point.

"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that someone so hell bent on vigilante justice has a _tragic backstory_ to drive their crusade. _Of course_ I studied the Batman, dug into his psyche and his past. The poor little circus brat, orphaned at a young age, audience to the murder of his own parents, helpless to stop it. Well, I discovered this, of course, when Nightwing was still galavanting around in dear adopted Daddy's clothes, hmm?"

"Enough!" Nightwing hollered, leaping forward. He skidded to a halt, however at the sight of Simon winding back his arm, large knife in hand, blade angled toward the incapacitated Flamebird.

"Tut, tut. Didn't they teach you any manners in that big old Mansion? Let me finish." He ground out through gritted teeth, composure instantly gone in a fit of mania. Nightwing straightened, fists clenched hard enough to whiten his knuckles, beneath his gloves. Starfire made to move forward, level with Nightwing but Simon wouldn't have it. "You too, lovebird. Stay where you are if you like the little bird the way he is." Starfire grounded herself, hands up in a display of submission.

"Well, the last time the three of us met, Richard insisted that he wasn't driven by tragedy, that I was wrong. That his Batman-Bruce Wayne- had taken him in, saved him from that fate, saved him from the anger and bitterness. Yes, according to Richard's account, he himself was fueled by hope, optimism." He snickered, eyeing Starfire as if to say 'bless his heart, the poor, clueless thing.' "Of course, it was up to me to show him he was wrong. All I had to do was cook up the perfect tragedy. And the rest- as they say- is history." Hurt drove the blade into Flamebird's stomach at the same time a small explosion rocked the room from behind Nightwing.

Nightwing was frozen in panic, head whipping to and fro as he tried to asses the damage to both Damian and Starfire. The columns which used to line the door where Starfire had stood now lay in a steaming pile of rock and plaster. Across the room, Damian lay unmoving on the sarcophagus, but Dick could see ruby red liquid pooling already. Everything was wrong. This couldn't be happening.

Nightwing couldn't make the choice, couldn't choose who to save and who to let die. He couldn't; it would haunt him for the rest of his life. His breath came in fast, heavy pants, his hands were trembling harder than he thought possible. He couldn't choose because, either way, he'd be wrong. If he chose to run to Damian's aid, it could mean life without Starfire. He could hardly remember a time when she hadn't been his best friend, his constant companion- whether he had admitted it or not. But if he chose to rescue Starfire, it could mean death for his youngest brother. A brother that, in their short few years together had become more like a son, had been one of his greatest sources of pride and joy. He couldn't choose.

_The tailspin was over but now the free fall had ended too. Dick had crash landed onto the asphalt without anything to break his fall. The clarity was gone, replaced by harsh reality. On the cold ground, he was way out of his element._

Blessedly, he wasn't forced to make a choice. The pile of rubble behind him began to shift and an orange hand busted through. Strong arms heaved their way through rock until a face appeared beneath the dust and the stone. Her eyes focused behind him before she locked eyes with him and said the only thing he needed to hear. "Go."

Nightwing raced across the room, feet pounding the ground, elbows driving him onward. He had no thoughts except for taking out Simon and getting to Damian. Simon tracked Nightwing's movements with his eyes, blade held at the ready. Nightwing threw a barrage of batarangs which Simon deflected with the long blade of his knife. Nightwing launched an escrima, but it too was blocked. Hand to hand it was. Nightwing would enjoy this fight.

Nightwing aimed a kick at Hurt's rib cage which he narrowly avoided, diving to the side. Nightwing pressed forward quickly, landing a punch to Simon's throat. Simon gurgled and spat, but remained standing. When Nightwing pulled back his fist once again, ready to strike at Simon's face, Hurt made his move. He slashed the blade shallowly across Nightwing's forehead but it was enough. Though the wound couldn't have been more than a millimeter deep, it burned and stung as if someone were pouring boiling hydrogen peroxide into it. His legs instantly became weak, knees collapsing out from under him. His vision grew spotty.

For the hundredth time today, something was not right. This was no ordinary knife wound, and _that_ was no ordinary knife. Nightwing fought to stay conscious, fought to remember why he had to stay conscious. He stared at the body of Damian, now only a few feet away from him, strapped to a cold stone table. Thick blood dripped down the side of the sarcophagus.

Damian. He had to stay conscious for Damian. The boy depended on him. Nightwing tried to fight the effects but his arms felt like lead. The wouldn't do more than twitch, no matter how hard he tried. He attempted to angle his head to get a better view of Flamebird at least, but even that proved to be an impossible task. Simon stalked into view, crouching so as to be eye level with the incapacitated hero. "You said, one time, that you had lived through the worst; that you had survived hell. Well, let's see you do it again." He dug his thumb into the weeping wound on Nightwing's forehead, sending a wave of searing agony through his head, white and red lights flashed against the backdrop of his eyelids before going pitch black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the other shoe has dropped....


	9. Chapter 9

Dick woke up before he had the guts to open his eyes. Wherever he was, it was nowhere near the casino ballroom- that much he knew. It didn't even smell like Bludhaven; that oddly comforting combination of oil, manufacturing equipment and ocean mist. No. Wherever he was, it was colder. Darker.  _ **Heavier**_. Grayson forced his eyes open and found he was laying on perfectly manicured sod. A lawn. It was dark- night time- but inkier than the faded light of most cities.  _ **Gotham**_ _._  He was in Gotham.

Dick forced himself to survey his surroundings and flinched when he did so. He was in the small, private cemetery on Wayne Manor. The one that sat about half an acre from the large house, beside the wooded area Bruce used to train him in during his formative years as Robin. Dick glanced down at himself. He was wearing a suit. The same suit Alfred had so neatly pressed for his parent's funeral so many years ago.

 _ **No. It wasn't… This couldn't be...**_  His eyes fell inevitably on the grave stones he had found himself lying in front of. The shared headstone of his parents reflected what little moonlight there was available in Gotham. His parent's names stood out harshly.  _ **Here lies John and Mary Grayson.**_  Beneath their names, a short inscription which Alfred had helped him select. " _ **Every flight begins with a fall."**_

Dick took a shuddering breath in. How was he here?  _ **Why**_  was he here? Was he asleep? Was this another one of his nightmares? Still on his knees, Dick inched forward. It was only then that the real horror of the situation became apparent to him. The dirt on top of the grave was freshly overturned. Rain began to fall. Dick glanced behind him, only to stagger back in shock. Where before there had been nothing but clear land, there was now a crowd of people, rows of seating. A small temporary awning. Caskets. A funeral.  _ **Their**_ funeral. He had had this dream before. Too many times.

There was nothing else to do. Dick approached the caskets. A lump formed in his throat and he struggled to breathe past it. Freezing rain cascaded down the back of his neck, slicked his hair down flat to his head before he could get under the cover of the tent.

Everything was just how it was the day of his parent's funeral, from the flower arrangements Bruce had ordered to the simple wooden caskets. Everything was caught in perfect, excruciating detail. Dick was just about to take a step closer when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

He turned, and as if by some abominable magic, a third casket appeared. Something was definitely wrong now. This had never happened in his nightmares. It was always his parents. Just his parents. Dick did not like this new development. He did  _not_ want to know who lay in the coffin which sat at the end of the row, though a small voice in the back of his head whispered that he already knew. Against his will he stepped closer. This coffin was different from those of his parents' which were simple, wooden. This one was jet black, with gleaming brass trim.

His body moved forward despite his mind's protests. Dick tried to turn his head as he approached, tried to keep himself from seeing the body he knew to be lain inside the coffin. His muscles wouldn't allow it however, and he continued to face forward, drawing ever closer. A foot away from the coffin, Dick clenched his eyes shut, delaying the inevitable even as his body forced his gaze back to the gleaming black box.

Within the folds of the softest white linen lay Damian Wayne. In an instant, he was alone. All the mourners had gone. It was just him and the small body of the boy he had sworn to keep safe. A guttural shout crawled its way up his throat, unbidden as grief consumed him.  _ **Damian**_ _._ The boy who had constantly derided his ancestry, his upbringing, who had argued against every one of his fundamental beliefs, was dead. The boy who had taught him more about being a man, more about being alive than anyone, who had brought more vigor and pride into his life than anyone else, was dead.

One of his hands clutched at the side of the casket, the other at his heart which felt like it would bust at any moment. In this moment, that didn't seem like such a bad option.

Once again, a sudden change occured in the scene. A split second before he was alone, but now he was surrounded by people. Angry people. They were shouting, pushing against him, clawing at his face, his hands. Their faces swam into focus. Tim. Barbara. Jason. Alfred. Bruce.

 _ **Bruce.**_  Unlike the others who attacked him, shouting despicable things at him, Bruce stood back. His arms were folded. His eyes glacial. He watched as the others forced Grayson back, back toward the open graves awaiting their contents. The heels of Dick's shoes cut easily through the rain softened soil as they dragged him. Their harsh words dug into his skin as easily as their fingernails, biting at him. Reminding him of what he had done.  _ **Reckless. Heedless. Thoughtless. Killer. Murderer.**_  Dick didn't even resist as his friends- his loved ones- tossed him down. His back hit hard dirt. He could still see the sky from 6 feet below, a small rectangular patch of grey-blue framed by the roughly hewn firmament.

A face appeared above. Bruce. "It should be you, instead of him."

"I know." Dick croaked.

"You should be the one lying in a coffin. If anyone deserved to die, it was you." His voice was gravely, menacing. He wasn't talking to Dick the way he talked to family or wasn't even using the greasy, arrogant tone he held with unliked coworkers. He was talking to Dick the way he talked to criminals, to the people he detested the most.

"I know."

"All of this- this whole mess- it's your fault. Rot in hell, Dick." Though Bruce's face had retreated from the small patch of sky, Dick could hear the scraping of metal on earth. The scraping of not one, but several shovels. He wasn't even surprised when the dirt started to cover over him. The soil settled against him uncomfortably, pressing down on his chest, restricting his movements. Sucking away his freedom. One of the unfortunate side effects of flying through the air from the age of five was an extreme claustrophobia. Ever since he remembered, his body yearned to be free, to feel the cool air, the heat of the spotlight, the delicate weight of the trapeze.

His breathing quickened even as the weight on his chest forced his breaths to become shallower and shallower. His body, now buried in rock, refused to budge. The earthy taste of soil overwhelmed him as dirt poured through his mouth, down his throat. Throughout his life Dick had been kidnapped, imprisoned, bound, restrained and locked away more times than he could count. But in all his years, in all his experience, he had never been this far from freedom before.

Dick wasn't sure how many hours he lay under the dirt, constantly suffocating, struggling for air or for death- whichever came first- in the dark, still, smothering loneliness. It felt like days.

All he knew was that one minute, he was laying in the dark, pressed against from all sides, eyes clenched against the stifling oppression of the weight, and the next, his eyes were open on a different scene. It was still dark, but nothing like the absent, hopeless black of the grave. It was more of a fluttering, grey darkness, not so cold as the one before, as if, somewhere in the near distance, a fire was lit. And there was a weight against his chest, pressing his spine into the floor, but it wasn't static like the unmoving earth had been.

He blinked. He wasn't in a grave. There wasn't soil burying him below the surface. He was in a cave of some sort. And it was Simon Hurt who was kneeling against his sternum. White hot anger blazed to life, stemming from the spot where Simon's boney knee dug into his torso and spreading throughout him. It made his heart pump harder, his blood run faster. Simon was still holding the knife. The knife he had used to slaughter Dick's youngest brother and he found himself even more enraged that he had been seconds before.

Grayson heaved himself upward, throwing his weight against Simon. His quick fingers snatched the knife easily from the twisted hands of the psychologist. Finally. Perhaps the grave had been his purgatory, and this was his victory for pulling through. Or perhaps he was meant to contemplate his actions under all that dirt, find some deeper meaning in his tragedy and find a way to move on from what Simon had done. Well, if that had been the point, it didn't matter now. Everything he knew was gone. He didn't even know how to be himself anymore.

But he did know how to get revenge. He had seen it play out before his very eyes in a hundred different ways parading under hundred different names working with Bruce. Yes. He knew how this played out. He knew how this story would end. Dick lifted the knife to Dr. Hurt's throat. The man was smiling like a cheshire cat, apparently pleased with his work.  _ **Not for long**_ _._

Dick drew back his arm only to be tugged off balance from behind. He sprang back up, attempting to lunge once again at Simon. However, he found his path blocked by two figures. The taller figure wore a black bodysuit emblazoned with the red Flamebird symbol he and Damian had designed not long ago. The slightly shorter but no less intimidating figure wore his own bodysuit, complete with his electric blue Nightwing emblem.

"What the hell? I don't have time for this. Hurt is getting away!" Dick shouted, eyes keenly following the quickly retreating Dr. Hurt. Dick feinted to the left then dodged to the right, attempting to bypass the irritatingly familiar figures.

"Not going to happen, Grayson." The Nightwing imposter said through it's plain black cowl. There was some sort of modulator changing the voice but Grayson was sure that he had heard the voice before. Dick shook his head. That wasn't important right now. Hurt was. Making Hurt pay. That was what was important.

"We cannot allow you to kill Simon Hurt." Flamebird intoned, voice similarly distorted. Still, that speech pattern was achingly close to something...someone he knew. Dick clenched his fists, fingernails digging into his palms. He needed to focus. Damian was of the highest importance.

He had been, and Dick was going to remind Simon of that, before he ended his life for good. "Go find someone else to save. I'm too far gone. I don't want to be saved." Dick growled, readying himself for a fight.

"We don't discriminate. No matter how much easier it would make our jobs. Every person is just that: a person. Which means it's our duty to help them." Nightwing said, gesturing at Dick, as if he were a prime example for this little manifesto. Only, the more Dick thought about it, the more those words sank in; the more he was sure that he had heard them before. In fact, if he thought about it enough, he was pretty sure  _ **he**_  had been the one to say those words. And only one other person had been present for that conversation…

"D-Damian?" Dick stuttered, hope evident in his voice despite the fact that he knew it was futile. It couldn't be true.

Nightwing reached up, dragging his cowl backwards. Though the man looked older, certainly taller, it was undoubtedly Damian. Dick would have recognized those piercing green eyes and that arrogant upward curl of the lips anywhere. "Damian." Dick marvelled breathlessly. He had no idea what was going on, but if this was anything like the last scenario, things would take a turn for the worse soon. He drank in the image of his partner- the oldest he had ever seen Damian, and likely the oldest he ever would- knowing it would have to last him a lifetime.

His head then turned to Flamebird. It was only now that he noticed that Flamebird had a more feminine body type- impossibly long legs, curved hips, small shoulders. "Star?" Starfire tugged off her own cowl, red hair springing forth as her face was revealed.

Dick scrambled for some sort of explanation, something that would make all of this make sense. He could find none. The last time he had seen the two, Damian had been bleeding out and Starfire had been barely managing to haul herself from the rubble of a collapsed structure.

"This… this is hell, right? That's what Simon meant? I'm stuck inside some hell where I'll be forced to live my nightmares, face my ghosts?" Dick could think of no other explanation. He wanted to be relieved but he was too afraid that the two images before him would soon start their own assault on his person. How much more would he be expected to handle?

"Your final judgement is much further off, my love. This is not your hell." Starfire offered kindly, her warm voice wrapping around him like a soft blanket. She sounded just as she always did when he was stressed: like a breath of fresh air. soothing, sweet and calm.

"It will be your prison, however, unless you stop moping and fight your way out of here." Damian prompted in his usual smooth-as-sandpaper way. Dick wished beyond anything else that he could piece together what was going on here. Despite all his years of training, he hadn't the faintest idea what was happening. There were no clues, nothing to help him decipher the endless maze.

"I  _ **did**_  try to fight my way out of here. You guys stopped me, remember?" All he wanted to do was dash over to them. All he wanted was for them to bring him some relief. Only the most ingrained struggle for his sanity kept him rooted to the spot, seemingly conversing with the ghosts of his past.

"You must get out of here  _ **your**_  way, not the coward's way you were attempting." Damian huffed, as if what he was saying was the most obvious thing in the world.

Dick turned to Starfire, hoping she would make sense out of Damian's prickling accusation. "Richard. Simon Hurt came at you through us. He attempted to force his hypothesis into reality. He wants you to be fueled by anger, and despair just as Bruce is. If you kill Simon here, you will only give him what he wants.  _ **That**_  is when he wins."

"Grayson." Damian beckoned Dick forward. Dick numbly stepped closer. Damian held out a closed fist, offering it to Dick. Dick held his palm out flat and something cold and hard dropped into Dick's hand. Dick brought it closer to his face. It was the R emblem from the Robin costume Damian had worn during Dick's run as The Bat.

"You passed your mantle to me on one condition, Richard. That I-"

"That you used the mask to help people. That when you went into the city as Robin, it wasn't as a vigilante seeking revenge. It wasn't some crusade parading under the guise of justice. If you went out as Robin, you were doing it to save people. You were doing it to catch them." Dick's hand closed around the logo, cold metal digging into his flesh. Finally, he was starting to catch on. This was a crucible set up by Simon. Simon expected for him to fail, to wind up as another statistic in some psychology textbook Luckily, Dick had no inention of giving him the satisfaction and either, apparently, did Starfire and Damian- or his subconscious constructions of the two.

With a confidence Dick hadn't felt for a very long few days, his chest swelled as he said, "Batman is driven by tragedy. But he took me in so that I  _ **wouldn't**_  be. He took me in so that I could be driven by something better. By something more powerful," he locked eyes with Damian, then Starfire knowing he was right when he finished, "hope."

When Nightwing opened his eyes he was back in the exhibit in the Marcus casino. He wasn't kneeling as he had been when he had fallen into whatever trance it was he had just emerged from. He was standing, bent ever so slightly backward. His hands were being held at a painful angle behind his back by someone infinitely stronger than him.

When his eyes flitted to the stone table, he found the sarcophagus free of Damian though not free of a still wet red stain. "What-What's going on?"

The pressure on his arms relaxed ever so slightly. "Dick?" A voice- Starfire's voice- whispered in his ear.

Dick wanted to relax. Her voice was smooth as honey and her breath and her body pressed against him had an instant calming effect on him. His brain, however, knew there was still work to be done. "Where's Flamebird? Where's Damian?" Dick shuddered, hardly willing t ask the question for fear of the answer he might receive. Starfire didn't answer immediately, prompting him to angle his head, trying to make eye contact with her, and she still hadn't released his arms

"Don't get your tights twisted, Grayson. I'm right here."

Dick's head whipped around too fast but he didn't care. Standing in front of him was Damian Wayne. The boy stood tall, as he always did, shoulders thrust back, head held high as a matter of pride. He looked relatively unharmed, though his skin was a few shades paler than usual. There was a slash in the left side of his uniform slightly above his him. Just beneath the hole in his uniform sat a rather shoddy first aid attempt, gauze taped hastily to skin, although apparently packed efficiently.

"Damian! You're-you're alive and, like, standing. How the-" Dick lurched forward only to remember that he was still being restrained. "Uh, hey, Star?" Dick began, relief making hi giddy. "Not that I'm not totally into what's going on back there but could you let me go? And could the two of you please tell me what the  _ **hell**_  is going on here?"

Damian and Starfire shared a critical gaze over his shoulder before Damian nodded once and Starfire released him. Dick dashed to Damian, wrapping the boy in the tightest of hugs. Dick felt like he could fly, he was so happy. He wasn't sure how they had done it, but it seemed that they had all made it out of this hellish nightmare in one piece. "Yes, yes, you've made your point." Damian sniffed, pretending that he didn't have a hand looped around the older man's waist fiercely.

Dick squeezed Damian into his side a little tighter, shaking him gently. "Come on. Are you hurt? And um, no offense but, how are you not dead?"

"Simon did stab me," Damian gestured to his side, "but only just. The idiot was so focused on you that I managed to scoot out of it's direct path. Of course, there was the  _ **small**_  problem of blood loss but I put myself into a little known League healing trance in order to slow my heart rate, preserve what blood I could."

"Of course, why didn't I think of that?" Dick scoffed, shaking his head. Their lives were ridiculously over-complicated. honestly the relief was so overwhelming that his head spun a little. He knew he sounded a little crazy but he couldn't care less.

"Meanwhile," Damian continued, "Simon managed to get you with his blade. I'm not sure of the specifics, but it seemed to put you into the fitful trance we saw in all those other police officers. Somehow that knife is able to induce some sort of trance state which awakens one's fears. it explains why every officer that showed unexplained signs of aggression had shallow any rate, you began lashing out at Starfire, who had freed herself and incapacitated Simon." Damian jabbed a thumb at the feet of the Anubis statue. Dick could now see Simon, unconscious and tied against its ankles.

"You have been vicious and combative ever since he cut you. Damian and I were just wondering if you would ever come out of it when you just… stopped." Starfire added, eyes roving him, checking for signs of stress.

"Yes. We should be asking  _ **you**_  what happened." Damian raised an eyebrow.

Dick's mind raced through everything he had seen and heard, recalled all the fear and panic and despair. Suddenly, Dick hardly had the energy to stand. He slumped forward, caught gracefully by Starfire, who gently lowered him to the floor. Damian helped Dick maneuver himself into a sitting position, legs crossed for stability. "That may be a story for another time." He sighed, grateful for an excuse to delay reliving his experience. Starfire and Damian shared another one of their looks, this one filled with worry and curiosity.

"I wish you guys would quit doing that. It makes me feel so out of the loop." Dick joked tiredly. His whole body ached and burned and protested at each slight movement. Logically, he knew that they should secure the scene and then get medical attention for all three of them, but all he wanted to do was sleep; to lay on the couch under a thick blanket, Starfire and Damian on either side of him, and fall asleep.

"You better get used to it, Nightwing, because I do not see it ending anytime soon." Starfire advised smilingly. And in all truthfulness, she could not be more thrilled about the prospect. She smiled at Damian secretively and he spared her a single eyebrow raise. It was progress, at least.

"For once, I don't even mind agreeing with Starfire." Damian added with a satisfied little smirk directed mainly at Grayson, who appeared to be fading fast. Damian had trouble suppressing yawns himself. Today had been one hell of an exhausting day.

Starfire stood after ensuring that Damian had a sturdy grip on Nightwing, helping him to remain somewhat upright. She bit back a smile, watching her two boys prop each other up. "I will go call some police officers, have Simon taken into custody. Damian, you wouldn't happen to have anything to take care of that?" Starfire pointed toward his blood. They would need to make sure it was properly taken care of, so it didn't end up in the wrong hands.

Damian pulled out a small package from one of the pouches on his belts. "Would you mind hailing the cycles?" Damian asked, passing her the key fobs for both motorcycles as well .

"Not at all." She pressed a hand to the top of his head before floating off to perform her chores.

Dick leaned against Damian a little more, pressing their shoulders together. "I'm really glad you're okay, bud. Really glad. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"The feeling is mutual, brother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must give credit to George R. Martin for the quote on the Grayson's tombstone, "Every flight begins with a fall."
> 
> The story is coming to a close within the next few chapters (three to be exact). Please, as this story draws to an end, review. I really want to know what you like, what you don't like, what you'd like to see in future stories or how I could improve. Thank you so much for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Starfire slid the glass door closed behind her as she exited Dick’s apartment onto the balcony. She had just finished helping Dick bandage his legs, which sustained quite a bit of soft tissue damage thanks to Not-Catwoman’s whip. The wounds would heal but not without quite a few days of pain. Damian had disappeared onto the porch the instant the three had gotten home, refusing to speak and accept medical attention. Grayson, knowing he had a lot of paperwork to fill out, evidence to collect and calls to make in order to make Hurt’s conviction stick, had asked Starfire to check on the youngest inhabitant. 

Starfire fiddled idly with the Holo-ring which rested on the middle finger of her right hand. Until they figured out how to juggle their multiple identities, she was confined to the disguising jewelry. Damian sat on one of the lawn chairs, back to the door, gaze unfocused on the distant horizon. Starfire crossed in front of him-rather than behind- and toward the free chair. She had learned quickly that Damian did not take kindly to movements made outside his field of vision.

His fingers rose briefly off the arm of his chair, a vague recognition that someone had joined him, eyes still caught on the images held only within his own mind. She eyed the empty plastic chair and decided against it. Rather, she squatted in front of Damian, resting a gentle hand on top of his. She was careful to make slow, cautious movements and to use only minimal pressure. Damian was overly prepared and defensive at the best of times. After the exhaustion and emotional distress of his day, he was likely to be a tightly wound coil, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

It clearly took Damian a couple hard blinks to return to the 13th story balcony from whatever thoughts had suspended him. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his normally piercing gaze was rather muted. As Dick and Starfire had both suspected, Damian was in deep need of rest. 

“Starfire.” Damian acknowledged quietly. He removed his hand from under hers, resting it instead in his lap.

“Damian.” Starfire greeted, unsurprised but slightly disappointed with his reaction. “Richard is talking with your father on the phone, informing him of what happened. I have no doubt he will wish to speak to you, ensure your safety for himself.”

Damian’s mouth turned down slightly, as if he had been expecting something else. “I sent him a message. He knows I am in satisfactory condition.” Damian pushed himself up, correcting his posture as if to prove his point. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't quite contain the flinch which the sharp wound at his side caused. Damian’s scowl deepened.

“Would you let me examine it?” Starfire asked, already preparing a counter attack for the response she knew would follow.

“I am fine. I attended to it myself.”

“Yes, and I am sure you did an excellent job. However I cannot imagine that your father or Richard would be satisfied without at least checking your work. ‘Double-check everything’, yes?” Starfire inquired, quoting one of The Batman’s more infamous sayings within the vigilante family. 

Damian eyed her critically but relented with only an over dramatic sigh and a signature eye roll. He lifted his t-shirt, revealing the gauze and tape which had been used as a makeshift bandage in the field. Starfire delicately peeled back the medical tape. Dried blood crusted to the straight edges of the wound. There was minimal swelling and redness, which indicated to her that it was not infected- for now. However, she knew he had yet to disinfect the wound. She smoothed the tape back against his skin, pressing the bandage back in place. 

“The edges of the wound are clean, not too jagged. It should be very easy to stitch, perhaps you will even heal without scarring. We should attend to it however, make sure to clean it up to ward off infection.” Starfire assessed smoothly. Among other things, Dick had taught her quite a bit of first aid in her Titans training. Though his lessons had mainly been excuses for him to spend time with her, she had always gained something useful from them and had relished the chance to learn as much as she could about the planet that had been, at the time, brand new to her.  

“I will make sure it is taken care of.” Damian said, once again keeping her at arms length. More than anything, it increased her worry for him. The two of them had come leaps and bounds from where they had been when they first met; him accusing her of being “all looks and no talent” which she had quickly responded to by melting the batarang that he had aimed at her face. Even when the two had a heart to heart about Dick’s safety and their concern for him, Starfire had felt that Damian had not let her completely in. And the next day, when they had had breakfast, he went back to his typical behavior, as if the conversation had never occured. It was always two steps forward, one step back. 

Starfire stood up, a sigh escaping her lips. She regarded his carefully, trying to read him. As usual, she came up empty as she studied his practiced composure. He stiffened under her examination, preventing her from detecting signs of stress, pain, exhaustion; hiding what he perceived as weakness. 

From her vantage point, Starfire could see a small strand of the rope that Hurt had used to bind Damian half hidden within the ebony spikes of the young boy’s hair. Without thinking, Starfire leaned forward, hand outstretched to pluck the foreign object. His fingers closed around her wrist, grip digging into her flesh with what would be painful strength if she hadn’t been Tameranean. 

Their eyes locked, hands still frozen in place. His dark penetrating gaze met her brighter but no less firm one. Neither withdrew their hands nor their eyes; such action would equal submission.

“I would advise you let go of my hand.” Starfire asserted in a measured tone.

“I would advise you refrain from touching me.” Damian countered in a hiss. 

Finally, Starfire lowered her eyes. She was not one to admit defeat- ever- but she was also not one to fight 13 year old boys whom she could quite easily defeat. “Damian, I wish you did not take after your father so much in the way you handle situations that scare or unnerve you, by lashing out. It makes everything so much harder.” She broke his grip, pulling her hand back toward her.

“Take that back. You don’t even know what you’re talking about, you-”

“Don’t,” Starfire growled, the barest hint of green energy crackling in the corners of her eyes, “Finish that sentence.” She poked at his chest with a single index finger, pressing him back into his chair with immovable force. “I understand that you are uncertain of your future, unsure of how my marrying Dick will alter your life. You are allowed to be apprehensive. But you are  **_not_ ** allowed to treat me with disrespect. I have only ever treated you with the utmost dignity and I expect the same courtesy, befitting the Wayne name and the lessons you have learned from Richard.” She removed her finger, taking a step back. She had not meant to yell as she had, but neither did she feel that it had been without warrant.

This time it was Damian who lowered his glare, a sting of shame evident in his evergreen eyes. His shoulders pressed into the the back of his chair. Though he was clearly upset, it was also clear that he would not be willing- or capable- of making the first move. It would be up to Starfire.

Starfire finally made her way to the chair, which was looking increasingly appealing. Fatigue was finally getting the best of her and she sank gratefully into the seat. “Damian, you must know that I care deeply for Richard. I do not believe in soulmates, but when I am with him… it is the only explanation that makes sense. But I also care for you, and what is in your best interest. If I am not part of that-”

“Your being with my brother, that is in **_his_** best interest.” Damian stated with conviction and Starfire felt her eyes close involuntarily, waiting for the coming verbal blow. “His best interest is ** _my_** best interest. Even if I am too stubborn or...cautious to admit it.” In a very un-Damian like move, he bit his lip, uncertainty written all over his features. 

“I appreciate you saying that.” Starfire acknowledged sincerely. Truly, she knew first hand how hard it was to admit weakness. “You and I are more alike than you might think.” Damian raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, but Starfire plowed on. “We were raised to believe that weakness was the worst thing that you could ever display. That weakness was a flaw meant to be covered up, trained over and compensated for. We were raised to value bravery, prowess, and strength over anything- even friendship, love, family. It is not easy to live in a world where you can have no vulnerabilities.”

Damian swallowed heavily, eyes fixed on the end of his shoes. “No. It’s not.”

“And yet those original familial bonds, those ingrained tendencies, they are hard to break free from.” Starfire studied the horizon this time, her head spinning with memories of her childhood. While her immense strength had been highly encouraged by her father, thanks to the increasingly war-driven society under his  regime, her flight had been discouraged highly, as it gave the appearance of an unfocused, unserious opponent. Essentially, anger and unwavering confidence had been reinforced, while joy had been discouraged- forbidden, even. 

“Denying the training of my mother and my grandfather feels like disloyalty.” He admitted in a small voice. Finally, he was giving her an inch. Well, she was glad to give him as many miles as he wanted.

“You have heard the phrase, ‘blood is thicker than water’, I assume?”

“The idiom that states that the bonds of blood are stronger, more important than those of friendship. Yes, I am familiar.” Damian affirmed. From the drop in volume and the slight tremor in his voice, it seemed that this phrase had struck a chord in him. As if it were a thought he’d had often, turning over in his mind, using it as a measuring stick to judge his own actions; using it as the perfect excuse to find fault with himself.

“I thought so. Were you aware that that was not the original meaning, that it has been misinterpreted in modern times?” Damian met her kind eyes at that, something akin to hope shining in them. Starfire nodded, smiling at him encouragingly. “It’s original meaning actually implies that the bonds forged in battle- in the spilling of **_blood_** _-_ are more potent than those of birth- of life giving **_water_**.” Starfire tilted her head at him, shrugging her shoulders in a confessionary fashion. “I do not know what you think, but I have always thought _that_ version rang more true in my life. Richard. The Titans. You. All have been more of a family to me than my true family was.”

Damian rolled that thought over in his head, allowing his analytical brain to find flaws with her statement, trying to find faults in her logic. Even after several minutes, he found no obvious fallacies- a rarity in his world.

“I will leave you to ponder that a little.” Starfire offered kindly, knowing that she had given a very thoughtful boy a lot of thinking to do. She stood, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to relieve some of her tense, aching muscles. The hem of her thin sweater pulled up, rising from its place at her waist to a spot just above her belly button. Damian was just about to avert his eyes when he saw the deep, painful bruising along the smooth plain of her lower back. 

“Starfire. You are hurt.” Damian held the shirt just high enough to reveal the discoloration, attempting to both preserve modesty and inspect her injury.

The young woman twisted stiffly trying to see, typical flexibility and grace missing from the movement. “Just a little bruising, I assure you. I already had Richard take a look.” She smirked at him, “Unlike the two of you, masochism is not one of my strong suits.”

“I am not-” Damian squinted, ‘tt-ing’ disdainfully. “That was a joke, yes?”

“I think Richard would classify it as a  _ tease _ , but yes.” 

He rolled his eyes at her, but this time it held none of the arrogance or vigor that it normally did. If she had to identify it, Starfire might have even called it sassy. She quirked an eyebrow, and strolled toward the door that led back into the apartment, lips curled in a confident smile. When she passed him, she snatched at the piece of rope still in his hair. Expertly, and without even looking, she flicked it over her shoulder and into his face. He barked out a single laugh, following her in. 

Grayson sat on the couch, leg propped up on a pillow which rested on the glass coffee table. He looked up at the two, who had spent an inordinately long time on the balcony. They had never spent so much time alone together in his recollection. “Hey, you two. I was just about to send a search party.”

“We were just having a conversation.” Starfire smiled innocently at him, forging a path toward the kitchen in search of food. As she passed behind the couch, her hand stroked along Dick’s shoulders seemingly of its own accord, though she did not stop her trek toward sustenance. 

“Glad to hear it. Whatcha talk about?” He shot a curious glance at Damian.

“Blood and water.” Damian threw back nonchalantly, similarly making his way to the fridge. 

Dick met his reflection in his laptop screen, head tilting and brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh...uh...Sounds cheery

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, if I'm being perfectly honest, this is my favorite chapter. I really felt that this exchanged needed to happen between Star and Dami. Tell me what you think- was in in character? Does their (his) slight animosity seem resolved? Will they be able to interact peacefully from now on? Thanks once again for reading! Your journey is almost over, but not before some post angst fluff. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

Dick didn’t wake until 1:15 the next afternoon, if his bedside clock was to believed. He had stayed up as long as Starfire allowed him to (1:00 AM) at which point she had growled that he could finish the rest the next day and that if he didn’t go to bed willingly, she would drag him there. He wasn’t completely opposed to the idea, but Damian had pulled the most disgusted face that Dick had willfully submitted to sleep.  

To his great joy and surprise, when he finally did fight his way back to consciousness, Starfire was still in bed with him. Her head was nestled into his pillow, crown pressed against the headboard. Under the covers, the toes of both feet were tucked under his left leg, which had been spared from most damage. Dick slid his arm under her neck, dragging her toward him and gathering her limp body against his. She made the most adorable sleepy grumble, eyes clenching shut as if to keep herself asleep. 

“Richard?”

“Yeah, princess. Finally awake?” He greeted, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

She responded by opening her eyes, only to let them flutter back shut for a few moments. “Mmm. In fact,  **_you_ ** are the one who has finally woken. I was up five hours ago. I checked on Damian who was also still asleep. I came back to bed about,” She lifted her head briefly to check his clock, “two hours ago.”

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Dick stared at the ceiling, arm still wrapped tightly around Starfire. Now that his body had had time to recuperate, and danger had once again been defeated, his mind was free to work at a normal pace. It was also allowed to wander to things other than tactical plans, worst case scenarios and worry for loved ones. “Star. Let’s get married.” He blurted, not really thinking.

“Richard, I believe I have already agreed.” Starfire rubbed his chest gently, as if to soothe him. Perhaps he was not as well rested as she thought he was. Had he woken in the night without her being aware of it?

“No, I mean, like, now.” His dazzling, blue eyes were fixed on the chrome fire sprinkler above the bed. 

“ **_Now_ ** now?” She questioned, half concerned and half amused. 

“I mean, now  **_right_ ** now, but yeah. Soon. Why wait, right? There isn’t too much planning to be done, since we’re going small. Basically we just have to make sure all our friends can go. Why wait?” He repeated, a small smile gathering at the corner of his lips. His eyes finally drifted from the ceiling to her own, eyebrows still asking the question though his mouth was closed. 

She met his steady gaze, trying to judge how aware he was, how serious he was. His eyes were clear, muscles loose. There was not even a hint of tension or anxiety. In fact, he mainly looked excited. He was thinking calmly. “Married. Soon.” She smiled- the kind that engaged her whole face; her cheeks flushed, eyes crinkling at the corners, eyebrows arched perfectly upward. “Yes. I would be very amenable to that.”

“What’s our timeline?” Dick pushed himself up, eyes alight, white teeth flashing happily. 

Starfire mirrored his actions, sitting up in bed, leaning ever so slightly toward him, as if they had developed their own gravitational pull. She found she quite liked it. “Two weeks?”

“Two weeks.” The two sat for a whole minute, grinning wordlessly, hearts pounding and giddiness sending a tickle to the base of their throats. “TWO WEEKS!” Dick bellowed at last, tackling Starfire. He jumped off the bed, dragging her to the edge by her ankles. She squealed but did nothing to stop him as her threw her over his shoulder and barged into the living room-kitchen area. “TWO WEEKS!” He yelled, running a circle around the sofa a peal of laughter meeting his ears from behind him. 

“TWO WEEKS!” She agreed through her infectious laughter.

Damian opened the door swiftly to see the almost ridiculous scene playing out before him. Dick whirled, grin fading a little, worried that Damian would still have some mixed feelings. Dick released Star, allowing her to slide along his body until her feet hit the floor. She too looked imploringly at Damian, who had said nothing yet. 

“Two weeks until… the wedding?” Damian interrogated quietly, face unreadably blank. 

“Yeah,” Dick affirmed, sharing a quick glance with Starfire before turning back to the young boy.

“Well then.” Damian muttered, approaching the couple. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” Damian held his hand out to Dick, who slapped it away and pulled the boy in for a quick hug. Damian pulled away after a few seconds, facing Starfire as he did so. She bent over just the slightest bit, to make better eye contact with him. He reached a single arm toward her, so she followed suit. He wrapped his small, capable fingers around her forearm, gripping lightly. Starfire jolted in surprise before returning the action, a greeting customary to her people, and meant to be one of the highest forms of respect in her culture. Damian studied his form, likely because of her reaction, then asked with slight hesitation, “Did I do it wrong?”

Starfire’s eyes sparked happily and she gripped his arm a little tighter, in a reassuring gesture. “Not at all.” 

Mere hours later, a small, fold out flip book rested on the countertop, facing the elevator. Everytime someone entered the apartment, they were greeted by the by the small calendar which read:  **_Days until The Big Day: 14._ ** Each number had a stack of numbers behind it, for the purposes of an easy countdown.

 

\-----

 

**_Days until The Big Day: 13_ **

 

Dick was just as pale as Starfire had ever seen him, sitting on the couch, back stiff as a board, knee bouncing about as fast as Wally’s normally did. His cheeks had taken on a faintly green shade. Damian cast a critical eye on his older brother before meeting Starfire’s worried glance. She held up a glass of water, nodding her head in the direction of the man they were both silently communicating about, very subtly asking  **_Perhaps this will help?_ ** Damian gave a faint nod, a vague shrug, as if to say  **_It won’t do much good, but go ahead._ **

Starfire stood in front of her soon to be husband, whose eyes hadn’t left the elevator door since he had made his call. She placed her hand on his ever quivering knee, offering him the glass. His eyes oh so briefly darted to the cup before he vigorously shook his head, shifting his gaze back to the elevator door.

“Richard. Try not to be so nervous. Bruce will be happy for you, if you are happy. You have to believe that.” She kept her voice low, soothing, brushing her hand down his cheek gently.

He nodded a couple times, but she could tell he didn’t really agree at all. A sharp buzz pierced the quiet room before Starfire could say anything encouraging. Damian leapt from  his seat on the bar stool seating at the kitchen counter, allowing the callers below access to their floor.  “Oh, God.” Dick muttered, cheeks flushing a more distinct green pallor. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Starfire pulled him up by his elbow, helping him to his abnormally shakey feet. “No, you will not.” She assured calmly, keeping her grip on his arm.

“No, I really think I might be.” He gritted his teeth, bile rising in his throat. What the hell was Bruce going to say when he told him that he was going to marry Starfire? He had never quite approved of their relationship, though he had tolerated it at Alfred’s behest. 

Starfire scowled, placing her thumb on his chin, fingers curled beneath. She forced his face away from the elevator to just an inch in front of hers.

“No. You. Will. Not.” She spoke each word with great force. She knew that he and his father had a very complicated relationship, and normally, she wouldn’t interfere in such affairs. But this was important and more right than anything she had ever done. Bruce had been wrong all those years ago when he had said they wouldn’t last. “Richard. This is right. He will either understand or he will not. But  **_this_ ** is right.”

Apparently this caught his attention, because his hands stopped shaking so much and then suddenly his thumbs were hooked under her jaw and his lips had crashed against hers. A bell tone indicated that the elevator car had arrived at their floor and Dick pulled back a couple of inches. “This is right.” He agreed firmly, voice ringing with certainty. 

Bruce and Selina stepped surely off the elevator, arm in arm. Alfred entered behind them, his presence quiet and reassuring to Dick. With a final nod, Dick put an arm around Starfire’s waist and approached the group of guests. Bruce raised an eyebrow as they walked toward him but he placed a polite smile on his face at the sharp prick of Selina’s nails in his shoulder. “Dick.” Bruce greeted, shaking his former partner’s hand firmly, before addressing Damian. “Damian. Glad to hear you weren’t badly injured the other night.”

“Thank you father. You are looking well.” Damian noted politely, remaining in his place, leaning against the kitchen sink. God, any more stiff formalities in his home, and Dick really  **_would_ ** be sick. Selina had released Bruce’s arm, and hugged Starfire. Dick watched her purr into Starfire’s ear, pulling away to eye Bruce, a look of unguarded approval on her face. “Mm. I do like this one. She’s a pretty little tigress, isn’t she?”

A rouge blush spread its way up the back of Starfire’s neck, who had turned and been mid reciprocal-death-grip hug with Alfred during the comment. “Um. Thank you? I do not believe we have had the fortune to meet. Starfire.” She pressed a hand to her chest.

Selina did the same. “Selina Kyle, dear.”

A look of instant recognition passed over Starfire, who visibly relaxed. Dick had told her plenty about the infamous Catwoman. “And Bruce. It is lovely to see you again.” Bruce took her hand civilly, though he didn’t reciprocate the sentiment verbally. Great. Off to an **_awesome_ ** start.

Dick opened his arm back up and Starfire appreciatively cozied back into it. Alfred took a step closer, still a step behind Bruce but just barely. Damian too moved, walking to stand slightly across from Alfred, beside Dick. It was almost like they were squaring off, Dick thought. He didn’t much care for that passing thought, and he silently cursed out his own brain. 

“So, Dick, what was so important that we had to come all the way down just to hear?” Bruce asked in his externally calm, but ever analytical manner.  

Dick’s eyes glanced from Alred’s calm, wizened face, to Bruce’s broad, confident one and finally to Selina’s all to knowing expression.  “Well, Dad,” Dick played the ‘dad’ card, knowing it had a softening effect on Bruce, if just the tiniest bit. “Starfire and I have talked about this for a long time and we decided that we’re going to get married, at Titan’s Tower in two weeks. This is your… formal invitation.”

Bruce didn’t look surprised in the least. The muscles in his jaw tensed a fraction of an inch, and he made no move to speak. Selina’s mouth quirked into her signature smirk. Knowing it would probably piss Bruce off and not giving a shit, she strode forward and placed her slender, calloused hand on his shoulder. “Congratulations, Dick. I can tell by looking at her that she’s a keeper.” She gave his cheek a solid pat. “Atta boy, just like I taught you.” 

She grinned like a cheshire, eyes glinting with the shared memory. Many years ago, before Bruce and she had been a thing but Catwoman and the Batman had been very… physically active. She had sidled up to Dick- as Robin of course- one brisk Gotham Night and looked him dead in the eye saying point blank and without prompting, “Don’t you toy with a girl when you find her. You settle down and you treat her like a queen. Get me?” Wide eyed, Dick had muttered something eloquent like, “Uh, sure?” At her terrifyingly piercing eyebrow lift he had amended, “Yeah. I promise.” Well, she had slunk off soon after, of course, but something about that night had always stuck with Dick. 

Alfred, also tired of waiting for Bruce’s official opinion either way, stepped forward, drawing Dick into a very warm, tender hug. “So very pleased for you, Master Dick. And so very proud.” Dick had the chance to catch the crinkly-eyed smile Alfred wore before his face was hidden among the masses of Starfire’s mahogany curls. He could see Alfred whispering to her, eyes tear bright with joy. It did Dick good to see the old man so happy. Alfred was a man of very restrained emotion. And more than anyone, he was a man who had little reward for all his effort. It was good to see him like this and Dick felt his heart swell with the understanding that he had made his surrogate grandfather so proud. 

Bruce studied the old man, watched the reactions of the others. He even managed to gauge Damian out of the corner of his eye. The boy looked quietly pleased, which Bruce certainly hadn’t been expecting. Finally, Bruce regarded Dick, who was watching him with well hidden apprehension. Bruce took a step forward, knowing that every eye in the room followed his movements. “I’ve never been the two of you’s biggest fan.” Bruce began. He saw his eldest son’s shoulders droop, though it would have been imperceptible to someone who didnt know him as well as Bruce did. A quick survey told him that Starfire too had noticed the change. “But it’s not hard to see that you two love each other and take care of each other. That’s all a father could ask for.”

The look of amazement that ran through Dick made Bruce smile, and he watched as Dick dove at Star, squeezing a quick hug around her shoulders before he lunged at Bruce himself. “That means a lot, Bruce.” Dick said, awkwardly pulling away, a sheepish grin on his face.

Bruce placed a firm hand on Dick’s shoulder, leaning in so as not to be overheard. “Treat her well. Alfred and I will both have your head if you don’t.” Bruce pulled back, a smile in his eyes. At Dick’s questioning glance he responded, “Starfire and I had a lot of time to talk when you were recovering from your fight with Talia.”

“Wha-” Dick sent a flabbergasted look at Starfire who only grinned. “What did you guys talk about?” Dick demanded. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Bruce smirked. He raised a hand to Starfire, who high fived him eagerly. 

 

—

 

**_Days until The Big Day: 12_ **

 

Dick climbed the steps of the precinct with a little less spring in his step than usual, trying to go easy on his still mending leg. It wouldn’t put him out of commision (pain relievers worked miracles, if you asked him) but he was trying to allow it to heal without the aggravation of undue movement. 

However, news had come out that Nightwing had solved the case of the crazed peace officers and it would not do for Dick to be out of the office, especially after reports that Nightwing had been injured in his latest encounter with Simon Hurt. 

Besides, the evidence had finally been analyzed by department labs, records confirmed and tests rerun. Which meant that the officers- who had shown no lasting side effects after their initial outburst- would be released today. There was no way he wouldn’t be standing there when Svoboda stepped out of that holding cell. 

Dick nodded at his colleagues, smiling at those leaving for their shifts and quirking a brow and smirk at those who were taking statements from a strange array of pick-pockets they had undoubtedly picked up at the boardwalk. He received respectful nods and exasperated eye rolls respectively, even as he continued his march to the back of the precinct. 

With a swipe of his ID, the outside door of the holding area unlocked with a resounding click. Dick slid a file home in front of the holding cell officer- Officer Boyle- in charge of intake and discharge. The man eyed the file, surprise flashing across his face. “No way. They’re cleared?”

Dick responded with a wide grin. “Yeah, man. All the evidence Nightwing dropped off for the commissioner checked out. They’re cleared of all charges.” Dick beamed as he followed Boyle to the cell in which Elise Svoboda had been unwillingly kept for the past three days.

Svoboda looked up from where she was sitting on a terribly uncomfortable looking, thin, plastic covered palette. Her frown melted the second she read Grayson’s face and she jumped up. “Grayson. You didn’t.”

“I’m here to inform you, officer Elise Svoboda, that you have been cleared of all wrongdoing and that the charges against you will be dropped immediately, without any repercussions.” Grayson stated with half-mocking, half-elated ceremony. 

“Nah, Grayson.” She scoffed, tears springing to her eyes despite the wide smile she wore. “Don’t mess around like that.” She huffed disbelievingly. Even despite his grin, despite his presence here, she was still unsure. Probably, there were questions she would never have the answer to. She wasn’t ready to be given false hope. Thankfully, all the hope he was offering was genuine. 

He straightened, heels clicking together, left arm down, loosely fisted at his side. He raised his right hand in a salute to her, answering her silent plead. “You are reinstated as a peace officer in the Bludhaven Police Department, 5th precinct.”

“Son of a bitch,” she said, straightening to return the salute, rubbing the tears from her eyes, “How the hell did you manage that one, you dog?” She busted into the biggest smile he’d ever seen before she closed the distance, crushing him in a friendly, very relieved hug.

“Wish I could take all the credit, Elise.” Dick admitted, taking a step back to meet her eyes. “But actually it was that- oh, how do you always put it?- **_that prick in the tights_** who came to your rescue.”

Svoboda lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow, striding out of the cell and shaking Boyle’s hand absentmindedly. “Is that so? Then why do  **_you_ ** sound pleased as shit?” She interrogated sharply.

Dick guffawed. Already, he was feeling better about going to work again. “Because,  **_partner_ ** , by my reckoning, it means that I was right. Nightwing isn’t so bad after all.”

“Damn it.” She said, spinning on her heel and heading back for her cell. “I think I liked it better in here. At least the cinderblocks muffled the gloating.” She was tugged back toward the exit, toward the middle of the precinct building by her considerably taller partner. 

“Alright, alright,” Dick appeased, “Since you just got sprung, I will temporarily take a step off my high horse. I’ll do that for you, partner.”

“Gee. I really hit the jackpot with you.” She replied sardonically.

“Damn straight. You up for Thai?”

She pursed her lips, considering. “Nah. This feels more like a steakhouse kind of occasion.” 

“You’re the boss.” Dick said in way of agreement. “Mind if we make a stop by the captain’s office? I’ve got to put in for some time off.”

“Oh, got some hot date coming up, Grayson?”

“Yeah.” Dick chuckled, imagining the look on her face when he would announce that the girlfriend she had been pestering him to meet for a year was soon to be his wife. “Something like that.”

They entered the bullpen only to be stalled by a crowd of officers- on duty and off, clapping and whistling. A mob descended on his partner as they welcomed her back, congratulating her on being cleared, declaring their relief that she would be back to her post soon.

\---

 

**_Days until The Big Day: 10_ **

 

Barbara had arrived in a whirlwind of excited giggles, bone crushing hugs which nearly matched Starfire’s in force, and proclamations that she and Raven were going to be bridesmaids, without question and that they would be taking Starfire dress shopping  _ right now.   _ The next few minutes were a blur of bouncing, squealing, and high pitched shouts of celebration (conducted only by the two redheads; Raven had retained her quiet composure, and had companionably stood next to Damian, cringing in unison with him at the high frequency freak out).

The two young women had found no resistance from Starfire, who had immediately and wholeheartedly agreed to both the bridesmaid demand, and the request to go dress shopping. The three had all but instantly rushed out, save for a brief pause in which, after having made it halfway to the elevator, Babs had whirled back around and planted a sisterly kiss on Dick’s forehead. With a ruffle of his immaculate hair, she had beamed at him. “Took you long enough, Boy Wonder. I was wondering if I would have to propose to her for you.” Though her tone was teasing, her eyes conveyed a deep and loving sentiment. Truly, she was happy for both of them. 

Dick had no idea what could possibly have taken the trio three hours, but when Starfire had arrived home alone that evening, she had been lugging several bags, which she stowed in the back of her closet at once, issuing the warning, “You are not to look in those bags, Richard.”

“Aw, come on, what did you get?” He urged, dragging her against him with a hand at the small of her back. Their stomachs pressed together firmly and her eyes flashed. Suddenly, a good majority of the blood in his head had migrated elsewhere.  

“That is for me to know and you to find out.” She retorted huskily, eyes half lidded.

“What’s the fun in that?” Dick questioned against her jaw, lips just barely grazing her skin.

“This.” Starfire answered. He felt her fingers move at his waist. He was just about to reciprocate when he found himself flat on his butt in the middle of the floor, blinking stupidly, a gloating Starfire standing over him.

“Since when are you so easily distracted?” She grinned wickedly, already dashing out of the bedroom, Dick hot on her tail, hands at the ready for an all out tickle war.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done. One more chapter to go! I decided to reward you, my readers, with a generous amount of fluff, for sticking with me through all the angst. Leave me some comments!


	12. Chapter 12

**_Days until The Big Day: 7_ **

 

Dick had texted Tim, asked to meet at Tim’s favorite coffee chain, Java the Hutt. It had two of Tim’s favorite things: ample nerd references to his favorite science fiction movies and shows and killer coffee. Dick had arrived second, having had to travel to Gotham to meet with the third Robin, now Red Robin. Tim jumped up from his table, happily speed walking over to the older man. “Dick! It’s good to see you.”

The two embraced and Dick clapped the younger on the back firmly. “You too, Timmy.” The two disengaged and moved to get in line to order their brews. Unfortunately, the adoptive brothers didn’t have much occasion to see each other, as Dick had been fully immersed in his police-vigilante duties and Tim too had delved fully into his nighttime, masked activities. Of all Dick’s adopted siblings and Robin successors, he and Tim had always gotten along the best. Tim was easy going and extremely intelligent and, unlike some of the  **_other_ ** Robins, was not as prone to quick flaring tempers or  aggressive violent outbursts.

The two made idle chat as they grabbed their drinks; Dick a small cup of black coffee, a splash of cream, Tim a large cup of Death Wish coffee, which Dick found ironic on multiple levels.

Because of the sensitive nature of the conversation, the two left the shop, opting instead to sip their beverages as they walked, constantly vigilant for eavesdroppers. “Dick, you know that  **_I know_ ** about the wedding already, right?” Tim observed, a hint of humor entering his voice.

“Hah, I’d hope so.” Grayson elbowed him lightly. “I’d hate for you to lose your status as the world’s  **_second greatest_ ** detective.” Dick quirked a cocky eyebrow, watching Tim out of the corner of his eye.

Tim mockingly staggered forward, not quite containing his entertained grin. “Ouch, way to hit a guy where it hurts.”

“It’s all my years of skilled training, honed talent and refined expertise.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of big words for a  **_simple_ ** beat cop. Paint me impressed.” The two chuckled, turning the corner and following the sidewalk past a bunch of new age boutiques. “But seriously,” Tim dodged a fishing saleswoman, “What’s up, Dick?”

“How do you like-” Dick’s eyes darted, checking their surroundings, “-the Titans?” Dick questioned, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Tim frowned at the question, sensing that the question was more loaded than Dick had presented it to be, but he answered the question anyway. “I like it. It’s a challenge, learning to deal with team dynamics, managing everything. But I like it.”

Dick nodded, noting Tim’s genuine tone. “You always did like a challenge, puzzle solver that you are.” Tim blushed slightly, but nodded in agreement nevertheless. “Look, the reason I ask is that Starfire is considering a change in location and-”

“And therefore a change in leadership for the Titans!” Tim finished, excitement pitching his voice higher than normal. “You-you can’t mean me?” Tim interrogated, intense eyes focused like a high powered lens on Dick. 

“Of course we were. Consider the past few days with the Titans as your trial run. Star talked to the team; they really seem to like you. Dad and I took a look at the cases you closed while in charge and we both agree… you did good- great, actually.” Dick was proud of Tim. The whole team had been pleased with Tim’s leadership and Red Robin’s case closure rate was high. He truly was one of the sons of The Bat.

“Wow. I-wow.” Tim stuttered, astounded and extremely happy. He swelled with confidence under Dick’s praise. He had looked up to Dick ever since the first article he had clipped about The Bat’s new partner.

“It’ll be a few months of transition, of course, Starfire will definitely have to give you some pointers, but… She’s really impressed too. Think’s you’ll be a really good thing for the team.” Dick added, putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder as they continued their walk.

Tim was just about to stammer another reply when a figure in a brown leather jacket turned the corner in front of them, barreling toward them. Dick and Tim had just dropped into defensive posture when Tim exclaimed, “Jason! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Crashing the party, obviously. Dicky has been making the rounds but the black sheep,” Jason dragged a cocky hand through his hair, “Has yet to receive a call. I decided to make one of my own.” Jason didn’t look particularly upset. In fact, he twirled so that he was facing the same direction as the shell-shocked boys and threw an arm around each other shoulders, dragging them along path. 

“Jase. You were next on my list, honest. I really wanted to thank you for that talk you had with Damian.” Dick replied candidly. He wasn’t sure what the two had talked about, but whatever had been said, had changed Damian’s mind for the better. The two had always had some shared darkness that had manifested in a strange but mutual respect. Dick didn’t completely understand it but he was certainly glad for it.

“I know, Goldie. Don’t you worry about it. I promise, I will be cashing in the favor.” He flashed his teeth at Dick, rubbing against the grain of Dick’s hair in a way he knew irritated the elder man. Dick rolled his eyes, knowing Jason was being annoying on purpose, as usual.

Dick threw jason off good naturedly. “Alright, Jase. You know I’m good for it.”

“Yeah.” Jason agreed casually, externally breezing over Dick’s sentimentality but internally taking it to heart.

“Anyway,” Dick changed gears, “The wedding is in a week, at the tower. Of course I want you both there.” Dick was a family guy. If he was going to be starting one of his own, he wanted his oddball, patchwork family there to share in it with him.

Jason pretended to consider. “Hmm. I don’t know. Will there be any hot chicks there?” Tim had the decency to look offended for Dick.

“My Fiancée.” Dick quipped instantly, not thinking about the consequences.

“Well in that case-” Jason began, quickly interrupted by both Tim and Dick who both vocalized the same exact thought in unison. 

“ **_Please_ ** don’t go there.”

“Yeah, that was maybe pushing it a little. Sorry.” 

“Oh, and leave the guns at home. No weapons at my wedding.”

“Spoil sport.”

 

\---

 

**_Days until The Big Day: 5_ **

 

“Wow.” Wally admired.

“I know.” Dick admitted, smilingly.

“I mean… Shit.” Roy swore. 

“I _ know _ .” Dick grinned.

“Out of the three of us, who would have thought Dick would be the first to go all… adult on us?” Wally asked, eyes twinkling as he poured the remaining drops of his fifth beer down his throat. 

“No offense, Wally, but I’m pretty sure we all saw it. You’re too damn churlish, Roy’s had the same stick up his butt for three-four years now and Beast Boy?” Cyborg shook his head with mocking disapproval, “I mean look at this dork.” Cyborg jabbed his thumb in the changeling’s direction. The boy, now 16 years old was sipping on a juice box as adamantly as any 6 year old. A no under age drinking  rule had been strictly enforced when Dick had invited his friends over to break the news in person. 

“Point taken.” Wally raised his hands in defeat, smile never once drooping. 

Dick grinned too, glad to be in the company of so many of his old friends. Roy, Wally and Beast Boy had all been part of his original team of Titans. And though Cyborg had only been briefly on the team, at the very beginning before he had joined the League, he and Dick had remained friends and Cyborg had frequented the tower, on both work and social visits. 

“Oh, by the way, BB, Cy,” The two perked up at Dick’s use of their nicknames, “Star had asked if the two of you could walk her down the aisle. Said she couldn’t choose and didn’t n want to.”

Cyborg stood quickly, upending a small folding card table Dick had brought out for the gathering. “Hell yes, man. I’d be honored.”

“Dude. I’m so in.” Beast Boy agreed, grin toothy and wide. Dick nodded his thanks, knowing Starfire would be pleased. She had always seen the two as surrogate brothers. Cyborg hadn’t been on the team when Starfire had joined but had hit it off with her instantly. From that point on, Cyborg had been very big brother protective of her, and had even threatened violence against Dick when he had come to the tower to find out they two had had a pretty explosive fight, which had ended with Starfire in tears. Beast Boy on the other hand, had been on scene when Starfire had first come to earth and the two had instantly found each other hilarious. She didn’t ever say it, but Dick suspected that Beast Boy reminded her heavily of the younger brother she had adored on Tameran, before he had gone missing.

“Hey, now I’m feeling a little left out, Dick.” Wally pouted. “First you let the little demon spawn have my best man spot, and then you tell me you’re not even going to have a bachelor party. And now this?”

“Ah, don’t be so offended, Wal. Star and I decided the bachelor-bachelorette party wasn’t our style. We’re happy to be giving up the playing field.” Dick shrugged. “Besides, I still need my other groomsman. I was going to offer it to you, but if you’re not interested…”

Wally’s eyes went wide. “Nah man, I was just playing! You got yourself a groomsman. Best damn groomsman you’ll have.”

 

\---

 

**_Days until The Big Day: 2_ **

“Hey, Damian!” Dick called, turning over the small object in his fingers. Damian emerged from his room in loose fitting jeans and a grey t-shirt. “Hey, bud. I have something I need you to do for me.”

Damian clasped his arms behind his back, nodding his interest. “This is really important. It’s the most important responsibility of the Best Man, okay?”

Damian’s green eyes intensified, faint flecks of yellow sparking to life. “I promise I will handle it.” He ensured, a look of hungry excitement on his face. As of yet, Dick had not really tasked him with any Best Man responsibilities, mainly because he and Star had opted out of the typical pre-wedding parties. He was eager to fill his role. 

Dick pinched a small silver wedding band in his fingers, holding at eye level. The band was thin, delicate looking, though Damian knew better than to misjudge it. His trained eye quickly recognized it as a titanium alloy (perhaps even with traces of of Nth metal, if he was a betting man)- practical for someone who would likely be punching in the faces of bad guys for a long time to come. The center was quite unlike any wedding band Damian had ever seen. Rather than a flashy, large stone or diamond, the centerpiece was crafted of the same metal. Two skillfully crafted, angelic looking wings were crossed, one over the the other, in the shape of a heart.  

Damian studied Dick, whose eyes were glued to the ring still. When he finally met Damian’s eyes he blushed mildly. “Flying. It’s always been kind of our thing. It was the first thing we ever found we had in common- a love for the rush of the wind and the resistance of all things gravity.”

Damian smirked knowingly, carefully taking the ring from Dick. “I think she will love it.”

“You do?” Dick asked, a nervousness seeping into his voice that he hadn’t even realized he felt.

“I do.” Damian closed his fist around it, walking back toward his bedroom. “Don’t worry, Grayson. As always, I have your back. Your ring will be safe with me.”

“I know, Damian. I picked the **_best man_ ** for the job.” 

Damian turned back to see Dick wiggling his eyebrows, relaying the message that he was both aware and very proud of his pun.

“I hate you.” Damian muttered, for old times sake as he rolled his eyes. 

“Say it like you mean it, Dami!” Dick called after him laughingly as Damian shut the door behind him.

 

\---

 

**_Days until The Big Day: 0_ **

 

Looking back on it, Starfire wouldn’t have changed a thing. Everything had been perfect.  **_Simply perfect_ ** _.  _

The wedding had been atop the roof of Titans Tower, high above the the sparkling ocean below. Though she had been worried about the weather and the wind, she needn't have. The sun had, as usual, chosen to shine brightly and the breeze had been mild and comfortable. The roof was typically used as a landing pad for the T-ship, but today all the equipment had been replaced by two columns of two rows of chairs each, facing the east, so the setting sun wouldn’t blind the guests or the participants. 

A single platform- ten feet by ten feet and about 8 inches higher than the ground beneath it- sat on the tarmac, atop which stood a trellis arch which boasted only the prettiest and fullest white roses.

By 7 PM the chairs had filled with guests and 1 way holo-screens surrounding the entire roofline had been engaged, keeping their wedding private and as secret-identity-safe as possible. Those on the roof could still see out across the bay, take in the breathtaking view as the sun set and painted the horizon with rich deep blues, pinks and oranges. However, any outside observer would see nothing out of the ordinary, just the T-ship, ready and waiting it’s next mission. 

At 7:30, Dick stood alone under the arch, excitement dancing in his eyes, which were more piercing than normal, thanks to the royal blue tie he wore. Bruce and Selina sat it the front row, Bruce impeccably dressed in a black suit as usua, Selina clad in a skin tight black dress which Bruce seemed to enjoy very much. Clark and Lois sat beside him, both flashing grins and thumbs up his way. A row back, Jason and Tim sat back, whispering and joking. Probably making fun of the cummerbund Dick wore around his waist. Whatever. Starfire had said it was sexy, and Dick was inclined to agree. Besides, it wasn’t them he was trying to impress. Commissioner Gordon sat a seat away from the young Wayne wards, eyeing the mixed company curiously.

Across the aisle sat Titans both new and old- those who weren’t involved in the wedding, that is- like Blue Beetle, Roy and Bumble Bee. Two seats sat empty and waiting for Cyborg and Beast Boy who would take them after their procession in. In the row behind, Jon Kent sat beside Alfred who was smiling up contentedly at Dick. He had, without asking, moved to “Starfire’s” column, knowing that it would be emptier and being happy to fill it. Jon had found the idea of sitting near other young heroes- albeit older than he- exciting and had asked his father if he could sit near them, which Clark had agreed to easily. 

At 7:32, Dick watched as Wally jauntily hit the play button on the sound system and the calming notes of Blackbird, by The Beatles filled the air. His parent’s favorite song floated across the calm, San Francisco’s air, intermingling with the salty breeze and the rush of the waves far below. Knowing his parents would be supremely pleased with the woman he had chosen to be his wife, Dick closed his eyes and took a single deep breath.

From behind a single black screen (which hid the roof’s only inside access door, and thus, the procession) Wally escorted Barbara. The two redheads made a big deal of cheesing hard, waving at the small crowd and power walking down the center aisle. Barbara wore a navy blue, sleeveless dress which fell to the floor in smooth satiny waves. It hugged her waist and legs, movement allowed only by the long slit which cut up the side, revealing muscular legs. Wally wore a black suit, sans cummerbund, a matching navy tie loosely hung around his neck, top button left undone. Raven and Damian came next, walking calmly beside one another without touching. The two had only met a few times but Dick suspected that had little to do with why Damian was keeping distance and everything to do with the small crush he had detected during their brief interactions. 

The two split just as the first pair had, Damian taking his place right beside Dick, Raven taking her place in the spot directly beside where Starfire would soon stand. Speaking of Starfire, he saw three figures making their way down the aisle and he heard himself audibly gasp. Starfire’s eyes were locked with his, a small smile playing at her lips. Her hair was, as always, wonderfully curled and gathered into a huge, high ponytail. A crown of daisies sat atop her head, a small homage to the royal throne she had willingly but painfully refused on Tameran.

She wore a skintight white lace dress, sleeves stretching down her long slender arms, hem reaching her mid thigh. At the hollow of her throat rested a simple Sapphire necklace, blue a shimmering match to Dick’s own tie. The necklace had been a gift from Bruce, made to look exactly like the one Dick’s father had gifted his mother on their wedding night. She wore light makeup. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She looked exactly like what it felt like to successfully execute the Grayson Dive- four aerial somersaults; she looked like the invigorating heat of the spotlight, the intoxicating scream of the wind (or was that the crowd?), the life giving tug of freedom at his stomach. She looked like home.

Evidently she liked what she saw too, because her smile widened as her eyes roved up and down his form once. She looked away only when Cyborg patted the hand which rested on his upper arm. It was their turn to approach the front. Flanked by Cyborg and Beast Boy, arm in arm, the three walked purposefully toward the platform. Cyborg and Beast Boy proudly escorted Starfire, squeezing her hands and whispering encouraging things in her ears. 

When they reached the front, she turned first to Cyborg who stooped to kiss her cheek. “Go get ‘em, baby doll.” She nodded happily, then turned to her younger escort.

Beast boy rose up on his tiptoes, pecking her on her other cheek. “Dude, you’re going to be so happy.” Starfire patted his cheek in response, before turning to step up. She watched as Dick stepped forward, too eager to wait for her to make it all the way to him.

Dick glanced at the assembled group of family and friends. “Uh, so we didn’t get an officiant. Figured, we didn’t need one to make this official; just a dozen witnesses who know how to keep people in line.” The crowd laughed and Dick smirked. “So the two of us are gonna keep this short, exchange our vows and rings and then let you guys dig into the food.” Dick shot a pointed look at Wally, eliciting another chuckle from the audience. 

The couple turned so they were completely facing each other. Starfire tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, wearing a sheepish grin. She jerked her head at Grayson, indicating that she wanted him to start. “Never pegged you for stage fright.” Dick whispered, teasing her lovingly. “I’ll go first. Well, my whole life has been about… Defying gravity. Escaping anchors. Avoiding solid ground at all costs.” Dick shrugged, making brief eye contact with Bruce. He knew the man was remembering the same trapeze act that he himself was. “All of my life, solid ground meant imprisonment. Reality.” Dick grimaced slightly at the word. “But standing here with you, Star, the ground doesn’t feel as lonely and plain as it used to. In fact,” Dick met Starfire’s already tear bright lime eyes, “it feels more free than any trapeze act I ever managed. It feels like a dream.” Starfire gave him a watery smile and a only half joking glare which said  **_you will pay for making me cry in front of all these people._ **

“I love you, Richard.” She whispered in response, taking a moment to take a breath and compose her thoughts. “Richard, my powers are controlled by my emotions. Strength comes from confidence, eye beams from anger. And flight, my most precious of gifts, stems from joy. No one I have ever known has been as big a source of my flight as you have. And I am prepared and excited to spend the rest of my life flying with you.”

Now Starfire wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes though Dick made no move to wipe them away.  “Love you, Star.” Both shared a meaningful look before turning behind them to retrieve their rings. Damian pulled Starfire’s ring out of his breast pocket, passing it to Dick with a small, pure smile. Raven slipped Dick’s ring off the chain around her wrist, handing it to Starfire. 

The couple returned to their small, perfect bubble. Dick slipped her ring onto the delicate finger of her left hand. She did the same, thumb brushing gently over the backs of his knuckles. Dick heard Bruce yell, “kiss her already!” Right before her lips descended on his and his hands found their familiar spot on the small of her back. They split only when he felt her floating out of his reach. Dick tugged her back down, hugging her firmly against his side as the crowd cheered.

After fifteen minutes, the gathered heroes and family tired of congratulating the couple and began their dismantling of the buffet. The newly wed couple stayed behind, blissfully unaware of the hunger rumbling in the stomachs of their friends. “Husband,” Starfire summoned softly, “I believe you owe me a dance.”

“Wife,” Dick grinned around the word, “I’d be happy to oblige.” He clasped one of her hands in his, reveling in the feel of her ring, which scraped unfamiliarly against his hand. She rested her free hand on the back of his neck, snuggling closer to him. Neither thought to ask anyone to DJ, perfectly happy to dance to the sound of the breeze through satin and chiffon, the melody of the brightly shining stars which lit their waltz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, my friends, is the end. (For Now). I want to thank you all so much for following my story and leaving me with such wonderful responses. I would love to write another story, but it isn't likely to happen until summer, when everything slows back down. Until then, I'd love it if you would leave me comments, reviews or suggestions for future stories.
> 
> Also, just as a final note, a reader brought up a point I'd like to clarify. Elise Svoboda is a character for the Nightwing Comics. She is a detective with the BPD. She and Nightwing have on again off again partnership, as she is skeptical of vigilantes and thinks that heroes make situations worse, generally. However, she has been known to call on Nightwing for help. She's a sass queen, also.
> 
> Thanks again for the reads and reviews!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading chapter one! As usual, I would really appreciate any feedback you guys have for me. Hope you guys had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New year.


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